I could have chosen
this noon
12 different windows to
admire my horizon.
But I sat confused,
is this where the view ends?
this noon
12 different windows to
admire my horizon.
But I sat confused,
is this where the view ends?
The opacity of the glass panes,
the walls of houses
beyond the narrow road,
and a moat dug by a
carefully-worded resume...
Yes, I remember, my horizon!
There, confused,
and in an editorial bind,
I get reacquainted
with my shadow,
shortened by the sun’s might,
yet yearning to grow. Patience!
and in an editorial bind,
I get reacquainted
with my shadow,
shortened by the sun’s might,
yet yearning to grow. Patience!
The long story short:
I grew and grew
in dark broken patches
on crumbling asphalt,
till dusk offered me
an obscure crevice to hide.
I grew and grew
in dark broken patches
on crumbling asphalt,
till dusk offered me
an obscure crevice to hide.
— Leslie
(Poem: Lost in a moat dug by a much-refined resume, I got myself reacquainted with my shadow this noon...)
