For A Shadow

 

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dead pencils
still leave a mark
salvaged from the litter bin
gave most of their everything
         from within
now surrounded
                     by cigarette butts
salad oil     tuna tins      phone
messages  hydro bills    coffee
grinds                    orange peel
rotting spinach             or kale
     broken
shoelaces             leftover pain
                              a sad refrain
   still saving a few scant lines
                              of sentiment
for a man
and a night
and a poem
                             for a shadow

© 2015 j.g. lewis

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