The trees make shadows in the shape of letters
indecipherable to the unaccustomed eye
Across the fence someone is sweeping
The water in the drain twinkles and babbles
A leaf breaks the stillness, falls, lands on my finger
In a year, my footsteps will be mere echoes
I will forget the language of tree shadows
Time; inevitable
Heart over feet,
dragged unerringly on
-
rm
YOU ARE READING
semi-permanent
Poesíaa collection of poetry "Let this evening be the next piece of fabric you/stitch onto the dwindling threads of time" (from "it's late") {RM 2022-2023}
