crestfallen sillouhettes remind the
somber night it's not alone.
the dark and blue and over again
is the minor-keyed symphony
we knew it would be.

it could hardly cry just one tear
instead, tarrental downpours just well from the eyes.
the shadows are crying-
the shadows, are breathing curses
under their chilled breath.

and every fog stream coming from the mouth
reminds the bitter cold that it
indeed does have some company.
as i rest, i think thus
that the cold, somber
sad shadow of a night
is within my own heart.
within my own grasp.
within my last gasp
of dying breath.
and what have i left?
a sillouhette of a melancholy eve.

03/04/2003

Posted on 03/04/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams