I don't remember those days
When colorful shadows crept along the rooftops.
Silent and bent,
Sneaking through the dead of day light.
Warm sunshine falls,
like rain
From dark thunderheads that obscure the sun.
Points and spires,
Like inverted stalactites,
Stab into the shadows.
Shadows made of cloth.
Sunlight like a yellow drape,
Covering a window,
Looking out over a sun drenched golden field.
VOUS LISEZ
Poetry
PoetryThis is my world of nothing No end no beginning, Neither in nor out, Neither up nor down. This is the glass pane of a window Hard nothing to keep out the cold. Something no one notices But is always there. Like a single droplet of mist Or the hum...
