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Presumptuous Of My Pen's Epitome
The keeper of my shadow in escrow,
presumptuous of my pen's epitome.
No more bees, wildflowers, or words,
now footprints of places forgotten.
In the sand, washed away by the tides,
between the metaphors and the shoals.
In my solitude with a broken silk fan,
of nature's Hope Chest, dreaming.
Twilight's memorabilia, whispering
beneath the glass of fading neon light.
When we were discreetly ghosts,
and felt the pulse of the living.
presumptuous of my pen's epitome.
No more bees, wildflowers, or words,
now footprints of places forgotten.
In the sand, washed away by the tides,
between the metaphors and the shoals.
In my solitude with a broken silk fan,
of nature's Hope Chest, dreaming.
Twilight's memorabilia, whispering
beneath the glass of fading neon light.
When we were discreetly ghosts,
and felt the pulse of the living.
Published 7th Nov 2023
Author's Note
Have you ever wondered where your shadow went?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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9th Nov 2023 9:07pm
9th Nov 2023 10:04pm
