Mournful
Learn more about other poetry terms
I stand on the corner of Canfield and Clarion.
I search for a familiar car to drive me away.
It is cold; there is no car in sight,
And the wind cuts deep into my soul.
There are many people
Each holding many things dear
However,
among them all,
There is always one thing,
recognized or not,
That no one lives without
What does everyone have
