Sunday, 23 June 2013


The shadows are making music in the night
torturing their rusty instruments
the jagged notes dance on the scented breeze

in the darkness they spill from us
and play their secret symphonies
half heard amidst our dreams

in the morning
our darker halves lie beside us
in the sun's steady reassuring glow

but slivers of a strange dark music
pierce deep within our hearts
a savage beautiful melancholy
for a symphony we shall never hear

it passes only through our dreams
and dies when morning comes
and with it
dies a little of ourselves

'til we become
a member of that shadow symphony

Laura Morrigan
12.46 am.

This Document Copyright ©2013 By
Laura Morrigan  All Rights Reserved


  1. Love the way you capture the mystery of our shadows- in some cultures it is believed that by stepping on a person's shadow, you steal some of their life essence or cast a curse on them. This poem reminded me of that belief.

    1. Thank you so much! I love the myths we create around things such as shadows!