Of shadows casted slowly,

like a pendulum reaching, slowly

moving, and then coming

back again;

shady skies,

and then open skies

and shady skies again, slowly.

Of Friday evenings
spent

by a coffee mug

chipped at the brim,

doors open,

and a wissh
and a woosh

of water spraying
somewhere.

A honking

on a road

so drowsy and
so lazy.

Shadows casted slowly

like a patched-up halo
behind.

Slowly, slowly, slowly

Shadows casted slowly

like the movements of your eyes
once here,
caught,
gone, and once here . . . artlessly again.

Shadows casted slowly,

like the shifting of your feet,

shadows casted slowly

like two moments

of our lives.

Shadows casted slowly

with a checkered confusion
on the window.

Shadows casted slowly,

but shadows casting always
of a fleeting little bird
that I hope comes
again.

Shadows casted slowly
upon a dusken sunset,
shadows casted slowly
a hello
to the night.