I’ve shadowed my youth with
arms raised, dancing the full aroma of summer while my
feet discover unknown paths.
My skin feeds on the colors of day as I melt with warm
sand near waters of Egyptian green and blue; I strike
the surface with stones.
I have the memories of days
attached to me like thought magnets.
I carry the cloak of searching,
turning corners wide eyed.
Night breathes in approaching shadows, with gray
curtains of air opening the envelope of dusk
until black is achieved.
Roger Singer 