“Solitude is bliss” is a line

that doesn’t belong in a poem

or a traffic sign or a prose,

or a chalk scribble on a café’s

menu board atop the counter.

It belongs in a leaves’ bristle

in a bird’s whistle

or a ripple

brought forth by a droplet of dew

on one shy Spring morning.

It deserves to be etched on

a street-side mural, impressed

in icing on a toddler’s birthday cake

or scribbled on a broken-hearted man’s

morning coffee cup

maybe jotted down on a ripped notebook paper

folded and passed along absent-mindedly through

a junior high classroom.

It is a fleeting thought, a lover’s whisper, a pandemic

word of mouth

a blaring roar through the city streets sardined with busy


A reminder that none of us are alone in this

crowded lonesome little world of ours.

Copyright © Imana Gunawan