Ceaseless Silhouette

perfect rondeau

 

And he was there in daylight’s eye,

Beneath the noontime’s brightened sky,

And he was neither friend nor foe,

Nor was he lost or filled with woe,

For darkness never knew this spy.

 

Or even when the moon was high,

When lamps would greet without reply,

The incandescent lights would know.

And he was there.

 

When dawn in ardent shine drew nigh,

The streetlamps sang, but did not cry,

For memory was but a crow,

That flew beyond its sable glow,

Returning when the day would die.

And he was there.