Spectre, © by Michel A. Di Iorio

From dawning of dusk to the yawnings of dawn,
he dances in step to my daily routine.
Asking for nothing, in canto withdrawn,
he commands my attention with gestures unseen.

He scurries ahead, sneaking up from behind
like a puppeteer master who plucks on my string.
He tiptoes around, playing games with my mind,
and shoots out from thin air like midsummer lightning.

In a monochrome world forged from darkness and light,
his indistinct wardrobe is clad to entice.
He mingles with everyone, daytime or night,
bearing witness to everything naughty and nice.

Dancing through life like a breath of fresh air,
on the floor of oblivion, he measures each stride.
He masters the dance of a young debonair,
as with deftness, his gestures, with mine, coincide.

A two-legged metaphor plays on the stage,
of his monochrome theater, crafted with flair.
His drama unfolds to a captive cortège
of conspirators, lined up to play ‘solitaire’.

I twirl to observe, as he swivels to see,
what the other is planning to say or to do.
We both take position and slowly break free
of each other’s suspicion, to better pursue!

In the dance of lost fools, I advance – he withdraws;
so I reach out to touch, but he snuffs out the light.
The curtain is lowered to silent applause
as my silhouette blends with the shadows of night!

Spectre, © 2006 by Michel A. Di Iorio

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