Battered moonlight,
shadows fall from the
feet, neither warm nor
cold; the shadow follows
down a sandy moonlit road.
Emerging from the sidewalks,
scaling the face of a building,
sometimes trembling, it fears,
sometimes wavy with broken
lines; yet unbroken it moves in
perfect time; its own life it cannot
find.
It moves forward both day and night,
sometime with menacing fright; its
only possession rooted in time; an
unloving thing, one of a kind.
©2014.thesilhouette.annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 
I do so love your work. I often wish I could write poetry, but it is not a skill I possess. This may be one of my favorites of yours.
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Thank you so much, sorry this is late in coming through…it just showed up today, go figure the system right. I appreciate you and enjoy your site.
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