March 9, 1999
 

Shadows
cast those long silhouettes,
upon the late afternoon grass.

And a mist appears
amongst the trees,
passing slowly through branches,
like an eerie phantom of the forest.

Forest shadows,
as the evening sky darkens the land,
shedding its mysterious influences
on a lone traveler.

Deep,  gray clouds,
moving to the east,
as dusk becomes night,
and the moon tries with all its might
to break free from the clouds.

And morning is but a great distance away,
for night has fallen upon this land,
and cold winds chill to the bone,
deep is the night that has fallen,
on this lone traveler of sorrow.
 

Copyright  ©1999 Carlos Rull
 
 
 
 

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All rights reserved.