I roam in gardens where lilacs bow to me,
that silent applause
that special praise
no room-filled crowd could offer.
It would be a lonely world to some,
no finger snapping, but not for me.
I leave my shadow, dancing
in windows shades of darkness.
It reappears only in short-lived moments
where branches clatter in rhythm
with the changing face of the full moon,
or just before the night-timer goes out.
Time moves too quickly to first light,
when solitude unfolds to an unslept bed
and discontent daybreak dogs.