Poetry
Shadow Play
James Thomas Hazard
I used to wonder
When small enough to scuttle
Under tables bending
Halfway down
If walls could be confused
And think that they alone
Were the shadows
Of hands
The sun exactly right
In the window of our kitchen
Such golden splendor
In the high blue sky
It seemed that I
Was at its center
The purpose of all
The orbits of life
My mother frying bacon
And bread she dips
In milk and eggs
A breakfast for her only son
Who comes to table
Now in memory
Of boy and woman so long gone
Like walls that never
Hold their shadow twice
James Thomas Hazard ©
2024. Used with the permission of the author.
Poetry
