a poem by Timothy DeChenne, USA

Night comes along behind my back,
creeping in when I look away,
spreading quietly over the walls,
filling this old and gracious room.

The shadows outside are crafty too,
knitting together a seamless cloth,
stitching the folds with points of light,
laying the garment upon the land.

How close this night and I,
tethered in the spin.

How strange this ebb and flow,
where nothing ever moves.

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