Quite What

Quite what have I become,

I used to see men in pubs before lunch,

Folded paper,

Furrowed brow,

Carrying nothing else,

Except the World’s woes,

Now,

Well now,

I have reached an age when,

Well,

Well actually,

Not well,

But, paper under arm,

Before high noon,

I sit,

Alone,

Seeking only company,

Even a look,

Or smile,

Or hello,

Hello,

But nothing,

No-one,

Just me,

And all the others,

The lonely.