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