Where Shadows Flatter Despair
No– shadows do not love
the angles of your face.
Reflection in a cage;
the mirror— enemy
in atmosphere of age,
no.. shadows do not love
the smoother skin of youth.
Your worries; furrow wears,
a trench where troops retreat,
—accumulated years.
No! shadows do not love
mascara and soft light;
distracts from sense of time
and wishes drowned in wells…
damn clock’s incessant chime—
no, shadows do not love
the wrinkles and the lines.
They etch your map their ink;
topography of life
where sun o’er valleys sink.
|