The Daily Fret; Stanza 6

Walking Shadows

Walking shadows,

I often liked;

To take them out,

On darkish nights.

With shimmering shards,

To quiet guide,

In darkened hours,

When night is nigh.

And sculpted thus,

With twinkling light,

That burned afar,

Yet never lied.

And myriad shades,

In angles slight;

Made them more,

With longing lights.

For blooming caught,

In darkened eyes,

The blackest hopes,

See bluest skies.

And hope that clay,

That flesh of night,

Would mark their love,

And shine just bright.

In a world that lives,

So halved by sight,

With dark do fill,

We empty light.

To search then most,

A hope that might,

To see form fulfilled,

In shadows slight...