Shadows (Forgotten Day)
the scrape of the razor
against his shadow dreams;
voices on the tip
of the tongue of his thoughts....
the smell of ashes and sulpher...
the imprint of a rose petal
in his palm.... bare limbed trees,
and it's not even winter.
in the shadow of the mountain
that he couldnt quite climb....
great black birds swoop the skies
that almost touch forever.
scriptures written with sticks
in the soft clay of the creek bank....
spider's webs, dead frogs, and
the whimper water makes
when no one hears....
just a shadow in the shadows,
a dead branch tinged with moss....
a mistake God made on
a forgotten day!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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