Saturday, August 6, 2011

Mirage


Flying in the air
Or walking on the ground
Shadows too walk
I often find
Sometimes they talk.
And sing too.
But shadows don’t lie.
As we often do


Shadows do fall.
They don’t get hurt.

They, too, get lost.
In a journey of the desert
They hold our hand.
And stay at worst.
I am dead in mirage.

They don’t die of thirst.

                       kisalaya.copyright 2011

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