In A World Of His own

To himself he only has words for to say
The old bloke i meet often though not every day
To him i said hello a few times but he did not reply
He merely talked to himself as by me he walked by
By others 'twould seem he does not wish to be known
One must say he lives in a World of his own
The years have left him looking fragile and gray
This odd sort of a fellow in his own strange way
Yet the strangeness we see in others in our own selves we do see
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
His huge cross in life on his own he does bear
With others his worries he never will share
Too busy talking to himself to notice me whenever we meet
And that is quite often in the park or on the street.