A Silhouette A puddle of water, Collecting dust and dirt, May now be a slaughter, A death of all my hurt. Faces fade one by one-A childhood friend from all The days of golden sun-In darkness as they fall. To seek with no response, The forgotten faces Lost in the nonchalance Of heart-to-heart traces. From my tears and my sweat, From the corner of my eye, Appears a silhouette: An exchange of goodbye.
| Eugene Pierson 7 Magazine Spring 2021 FINAL.indd 7
4/15/2021 8:18:11 PM
