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