Monday, January 24, 2011

The shade

Sometimes in the rough
the shade pulls over.

Slowly, it creeps.

Like a shroud I try to push it away.

Force myself into what is left of the light.

But it is there.

Out there, in the places that are empty
and I am alone.

Like you.

The shade is there, soft and open
until it closes
and it feels like a reunion, like it felt before.

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