Shadows
Could spectres conceal inscrutable plot,
while following lives with clandestine eyes:
mocking each movement with grace we have not.
Caste-less company of foolish and wise,
elusive and tireless, always impend:
fleet, ever positioned to criticize.
Noiselessly waiting at each journey's end
watching and judging, without acquittal,
deeds that we're proud of, and some to defend.
Their aloofness lessens us, belittles
as around all they swoop, dread silent crows,
and yet are scattered like children's skittles
when darkness descends with one immense blow,
for night is queen of secrets and shadows.
Copyright © Perry Mcdaid | Year Posted 2014
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