Long Shadow Short

I could have chosen
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!

The long story short:
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...)

Light Banter With The Bulb

​In between a siesta

and a night slated for grammar,

I find a canyon

to banish the scripted emails, 

as punishment.

Many remain in obscurity there,

others return after sunset,

and remind the dwellers

of Nazareth,

words are immortal.

The subject lines who made it,

and ​the woefully inadequate boy,

dance on a wooden stage,

the rickety scaffolding,

creaking under the 

weight of expectation.

It is night now,

the light bulb says mockingly,

singing ​a ​glowing tribute to normalcy,

but ​a ​long shadow lurks

just beyond his narrow mind,

bolted like my front door.

It keeps the couriers out,

food slips in; 

thoughts and vision hardly do,

the essential commodities, desolately so.

-- Leslie Xavier