A Touch of Fog
The past, seems to be cloning itself inside my shadow.
Just a brush of air, as it feeds my shadow shape.
I'm hearing touches and feeling echoes.
Crying smiles and laughing tears.
Stirred and laid side by side on a see-saw.
Be it a dream glimpse or a fear?
Elucidation, depending on the weight of the day.
Standing by.
Aching to be a complete duet.
Lost somewhere outside, looking in.
Ears straining to speak to a beautiful "a cappella" heart.
It too, lost in a way?
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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