This
is my favorite time:
when the sun is down,
and the heat is gone,
and the night is young
and velvety.
Under the street lamps,
sharper are the shadows,
greener the leaves,
closer every sound.
Lights,
like blobs on an ancient film,
remind me
of what I forgot
when my age had a single digit.
Then,
all I had to do was
want
to move my hand,
and it would move.
What I want,
what I think,
I have.
I wish I could remember that.
Shadows
curl
at the edge of my vision.
They call to me,
but in full view
I find them still.
I wish I could relive that magic.
The green
is of a different kind
at night.
It’s alive
and hard
and raw.
Like I used to be
before I forgot who I was.
I wish I could remember that.
The city sleeps
and I can hear a leaf
turning to watch me –
an intruder on her silence.
I wish I hadn’t woken you up.
But the shadows are sharper,
and the green is greener,
and the sound is closer.
I am awake
in this collage
with layered colors,
clumsy lines
and muffled sounds.
And I have but shadows
and green
and sound
to show tonight to.
