My blurred facsimile

the evening sunlight strikes weakly,
giving permission for my dusky shadow
to
s
t
r
e
t
c
h
long and lean,
from my ponderously treading feet
and paint a blurred facsimile on the grey concrete,
but, upon yellow-eyed examination, it occurs to me
that in days gone by, when my step was nimble,
my grin elastic, and my skin unwrinkled,
that just like me, my shadow had
a sharper edge to it

©Jane Paterson Basil