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The Shadow
by Jared OrlandoStanding in front of
A sheer pane of glass
Mocking what I’ve
Grown into. I edge
My outline with a
Dusty finger, and
Someone meets my
Touch and draws with
Me. Above my rustled
Hair, down and around
Each ear, my chin
Shoulder arm hands
Legs and I stop because
My friend has disengaged
His touch on mine freely
Floating and explodes
I lost my mirror image
My shadow, losing its
Crispness, lagging behind
Like a boy watching each
Crack, careful, my echo
Is less evident, filling
Empty spaces with
A one way reflection
05/22/2010 Posted on 05/22/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jared Orlando
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/22/10 at 10:12 PM ...you got a smart shadow, he know when to disappear...you know we blame others...even us in the mirror...i like this heavy write, 'dusty finger' on a sheer pane. cool. |
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