for larry
Shadows
This glade is warmed by this low moonYet it is the shadows that arrest me-
That attach themselves to things...look!
The trees have seized them and spun them to webs
It seems and the light slowly fades to the blackness.
These shadows scare me.
They are implacable with cruelty and even the luminous
Amongst us become dim and dispirited.
They are as vampires and do not reflect on the sufferings
As they try to steal our fragile happinesses.
Full well we know if we bow down they will drain our blood.
We will gather then in this lunar glow as
The low moon rises and gives way to the morning...and we
In this ancient glade will stand above their ashes.
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2012-10-06 at 23:56
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