An Irregular Illusion Poem by Eillio Imbasciati
An Irregular Illusion
Behold the shadow dancer,
Casting a pall over his ever-declining mood
Role call, no encore envisioned on the horizon
Simply shifty, but remaining shiftless,
Moves that are a distant wind
Seemingly offering more than just a show,
But it was an irregular illusion
She had legs,
Although any future beyond this stage didn't
He's reached his stage as well,
One of reluctant acceptance
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 10:14:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
