Wednesday, September 21, 2011


Those shadows are all over me,
The clouds and the moon share a dialogue.
Raindrops retreat too soon
and the scary bat knocks on my door.

The 'other' me sqeals subtly, but 'real' me answer it back,
and it seems to understand my language.
It displays a ritual dance to welcome me to its family.
I politely indulge and begin a conversation.

We call today Vienna and tomorrow Florence,
But the months need a name and so does the year.
The clock is making the world go round,
Yet the stories weaved look for solidity.

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