Life of Shades
Dawn comes upon me lingering
at the edge of a new day.
Watching it pull shadows from their beds,
stumbling out on wobbly legs,
tall as trees walking; slates seen
between peach coloured hues spreading
across my view like a sea from a budding flame.
I watch these shades sway like swimmers
through ever brightening waves;
starting their day-to-day, and I wonder,
did they want to be pulled from their beds
or were they slaves like us to some alarm
unheard at the cresting of that flame,
pulled to and fro by tides in their brightening sea
like we are moved in fate’s wake.
Or would they have been free to choose;
would the dawn first peak at the day,
come upon a sea of peach hues instead?
And just you and I left to our own tides pulling us
This way and that sans shadowy shapes keeping pace.
And as that flame begins its pace, becoming pressed
and pulled in all shapes. Against their will being made
And unmade; old, then young, then old again.
Wandering aimlessly through another’s day-to-day.
As time brings them to bed again, do they
peacefully dream, or are they tied to us
even then? Following our hopes and fantasies,
being chased by our fears down Past streets.
When I awake; groggy from my night of ethereal plays,
is it only my shades restless night found written
upon my haggard face. When night’s events are lost
at the break of day, is it only then that shadowy “I”
finally finds its own resting place?
Copyright © Michael David Sheridan | Year Posted 2022
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