Still Life In Shadows
Figures like shadowed burnt molded clay mimic life
As they are cast in the sliver of light that passes
Through a crack in the rotted wood of the house slowly
Collapsing as days stretch endless under grey or blue of
Skies with the sun burning in their hearts beating
Like the wings of the robin that kisses
The first dew of spring
They remember their dreams transparent and watery
Like the surface of the lake rippling and catching the sheen
Of the moon on a Shakespearean summer night,
The crickets lulling with their song, the warm breeze
Sifting through the darkness that is broken like shards
By the street lights that shine for the lonely nightwalker
Or the lit window casting the glow from our home
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012
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