Must be My Tired Mind...

 



The shadows play their tricks of sand
just out of sight, in sky, on land,
the walls inhale, my eyes reveal
the breaths they take, their true allele,
and looking back, I reprimand;

The yellow colour of my hands,
the white they turned on cue, demand,
when quavering at something real,
the shadows play…

A dirge, a song I can’t withstand,
surreal, bizarre, an evil brand
of silent nights, where I should feel
content instead, my wish repealed,
by sleepless tomes of brittle strands, 
the shadows play…