Weary with age
the sun drops low;
arms reach across snow,
tugging it as a blanket
to cover its head.
I, too, tuck my head away safe
from the cold.
Long shadows reach for distant faces,
but lack the strength to hold.
The sun drops low.
Its approach is too close
as it scrapes along the rooftops
smokestacks, cell-towers, and power lines
scar its luminance.
I, too, have scars on the skin: life,
now so old.
Long shadows reach for distant faces,
but lack the strength to hold.
They can't touch.
They can't feel.
Always missing out on the warmth.
Dark circles under eye
capture any radiance they may provide.
Dark circles under eye capture any radiance from these eyes,
like a January sun
afraid to touch the sky:
the way I behave in this life:
only glancing…
feigning confidence…
one step to retreating…
Through these eyes it seems so far to go.
Long shadows reach out, but lack the strength to hold!
Face shied away, eyes cast-down
looking for the easiest way out;
I'll leave you in the dark,
and without warmth.
