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Spirits
© April 2, 2008, Roy Stucky

The dancers augment their commute.
The later flee from light's pursuit.
All revels fade before the dawn
Disturbs the shades remorse has drawn.

Glass rejects the morning sun
Where business comes too soon.
Iron backbone sentinels
Pass shadows to the room.

These spirits so accustomed
To sojourn in the night
Wear amber colored glasses
When confronted with the light.

I taste a hint of bitter air
That haunted souls have dropped in there.
I feel the breath of human hosts
Who house a legion chained to ghosts.