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Sep 2018
When the Flamingos return home
with their pink flourish flaring up the horizon,
my shadow grows taller, stranger.

At an untidy pace, it grows,
swifter than my feet,
outsmarting my sanity.

With contours blurred to a hazy oblivion,
a stranger to me I become. I search me
hiding in the shadow of a Chimeric illusion.

My impish shadow plays hide and seek -
long in the morning,
weeny at noon,
weird again in the evening, but
never it leaves me!

When Flamingos return home,
it cruises with the setting sun
across the mystical waters
beneath the earth
to return to me
with the blissful colours
of a new dawn!
TheMystiqueTrail
Written by
TheMystiqueTrail
277
 
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