I Wandered Lonely

After a poem by William Blake

I wandered lonely as a sunbeam
through the slats of a boarded-up shack
I wandered lonely as a seed
on a chilly fall wind
I wandered lonely as one feather
dropping from an empty nest
I wandered lonely as a single puff of smoke
lingering on a clear night
I wandered lonely as one tear
down a worn and rutten cheek
I wandered lonely as a sigh
escaping, white, into a cold morning
I wandered lonely as a forgotton page
chased by the wind down a wet street
I wandered lonely as the empty gaze of a refugee
who has nothing left to hope for