Forgotten

A poem about solitude and being forgotten

White flakes fall silently on the streets
As carolers fill the air with their good
Tidings and cheer.  Passersby, with their
Wrappings tied tight, force themselves
Around the little ones standing, mesmerized
By the Lights twinkling behind the panes. 

In the distance, with holes in my gloves
And no hat for my head, I sit.  Watching
The hustle and bustle before me, I am
Reminded of my solitude.  As the snow
Falls more heavily, covering the tracks, I
Realize that I am not the only one forgotten.