The shadows dark do cloud my mind
And as a serpent slowly wind
Into a river rife with fear
Where floats one vision most unclear,
Too strange that as I wend my way
My feet seem slow and mired in clay.
From dusk till dawn these shadows keep
My restless self foreign to sleep,
Then with the wakeful hours of morn
My eyelids shut in careless scorn
Upon this world which might just be
A lesson in civility.
Claire V. Bogdanos 