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

In a bare room, lonely,


I stand naked in a lonely



patch of sun, thinking of you, lonely.


I sit and let my blue shadow stretch lonely



on the green carpet like grass


lonely for flowers. Lonely



like the bed, empty of you. Lonely


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