Shadows

Peeping through the thin branches of trees,
amid rustles of its restless leaves
from the gentle tapping of the afternoon breeze----
I beckon the twilight.....
the crimson-red rays painted like chiaroscuro on the ground;
I hear faint, sodden footsteps crashing on the grass.....
The day ushers in the dark.....
the wind finally turned cold,
my weary heart I couldn't hold.
Can I still wait for tomorrow as another listless night unfolds?
Tomorrow...... will there still be orchids and laurels to behold?


Written in September 1992