the shadows still fall
longer than they should
not quite giving in
to the rise of the sun, peering through the window
the thin squeals of the starburst
exploding through the cracks in
the window and the eyelids
squinting, making their white threads more prominent and painful
the shadows should be
disappearing soon enough
but still they dance and play with their host
soon to disappear, shrinking under her feet to nothingness
with the breeze and the filter
the sun seems so impotent
only able to cause pain for direct onlookers
not burning, scorching the earth as it truly desires
nestled inside the shell
the watcher observes
recording thoughts and knowing the answer
it is all a lie, yet the afternoon truth persists brightly even through the morning's deception
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