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The Shadows

They whisper:
The Shadows.
Silver mirror slivers of people,
ghosts of former selves.

A grey hand reaches,
searches,
feels.

I am invaded
and they are fulfilled.

That is harmony
and agony
and shattered silence between.

The Shadows are sated;
They sing for now. 

 

There will be no sleep.

No rest.

 

I shall await tomorrow's whispers

with quiet quivering spirit.    

Author notes

Hmmm.

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Comments

  • Virgoan
    September 22

    Edit | Reply
    I like how this creeps me out. It is not fully intended to be scary but the voice of this is really eerie.


    Well done, Ma'am.


  • Andrew Siddle
    September 10

    Edit | Reply

    great

    I've never thought about writing a poem about shadows...well done!

    A S