Meeting the Shadow
making magic with the light,
and I lean against the comfort
of it's vast spread
over the bedroom wall.
And just as I get
comfortable and secure,
It turns and sharpens
into a blade-thin cold grey line,
deserting the morning sun-ray
and disappearing into
an invisible pin-point.
I shiver.
What would I do with the real man?
This was only the shadow.
Labels: poetry
2 Comments:
i think i left a note on this on the main board... the dance of shadows... bewitching as ever :-)
hmm scribe, you make magic with your pen...
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