On the ground. Was she?

Deep in the hustle, yet

So very out of reach 

From the cracking campfire 

It escaped her every​ memory.

She longed, stretched and reached

But never there.

Amidst the leaves’ rustle, yet

No more could trample them.

Beneath the flood of the lamp post

All that was, among other shadows

Was her silhouette.

©NM

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