weak silhouettes

by mistersoto

returning every night
changing clothes
still faintly carrying
odours of the office
a shadow of a tree
swaying in the breeze
on the bedroom wall
this night has the air
of only slight attendance
of passive impulses
trace awareness
but it will do

here sat on the bed
shadows are mirrors
opening and closing
pasts and futures
being passed
on to children
old and new
where the glance of Janus
see’s an eternity
in repeated confinement
and directions
of the way of things