EDWARD HOPPER UNDERSTOOD THE ROOMS OF THE LONELY BY ROCHELLE JEWEL SHAPIRO

In a bare room, lonely,

I stand naked in a lonely

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patch of sun, thinking of you, lonely.

I sit and let my blue shadow stretch lonely

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on the green carpet like grass

lonely for flowers. Lonely

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like the bed, empty of you. Lonely

like not wanting to get dressed, or eat, that lonely.