Shadows

The sun slides across the sky with the grace
Of a prima ballerina on opening night,
Just as it has day after day,

Catching memories thrown to the wind
And painting them as shadows
Of forgotten times,

A soft mosaic of years gone by
Like ghosts whispering to the dust
Leaving no footprints

With so much to tell 
but no one 
to listen.


january 2008
Janet Reid