Recognition

| by Grace Stevens

Am I pulling away from the world?

Not in a way of death and dying

Not in a way that I’m leaving or going anywhere

But in a way that the colors are fading

Days pierce me

Where the brightest smile I can muster

Is that which resembles a dying flame

The fear of not being seen gone

For I content myself with it

I was made to exist in the shadows

Substance for those who see me in passing

Never more than a wink or a wave

It’s quite beautiful

The smile of recognition

Of view

All for a fleeting moment until it’s gone

And I return to the cold kiss of the shade

Whispering in my ear

That life is good like this

Quiet

So I continue

As will I always

But the shadows are consuming me

And the color is fading