Perfumed Shadow, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Perfumed ShadowShadow Portrait

Perfumed Shadow

Is now an early cool Sunday morning
Few lonely shadows are longer than life
As the early sunrise is just spawning
My aching demented mind’s thoughts are rife
Many of them I have been avoiding

The memories with her causing anger
But not of her, rather a careless me
My inactions she is now a stranger
Her needs I failed miserably to see
Now all I do is ponder loss of her

Each step I take adds to the misery
Head so heavy can’t see the horizon
A prisoner whose never to be free
Unable to take serious action
Each shadow passing by I think it she

The soft clicking sound of a woman’s heel
Quickly her slender shadow passes by
A curious change to the way I feel
Suddenly froze in place starting to cry
Scent of the shadow’s perfume was real


Leave a Reply