Late evening shadows grow silent
while alive in a breeze that stirs the skirts
of those leaving illuminated shops.

Crows fly from bells of the old church
escaping the soul of a wicked husband
and vanish into darkness of dense groves.

I search for you, constantly distracted
by my madness of needing to know more
about the reasoning for your harsh weather.

Not ready in this moment to say goodbye
memories coldly pass through warm bodies
as night takes over the shadows of that thing.

© Henry C.