From a watchful chair to his shadow lover
Leaning from my ankle,
At a 46-degree angle,
I sit in vigilant stillness.
Call me oblique, or astray,
I stand to declare the solemn way,
A chair shall watch over.
Etched into my timeless repose,
Shadow of the iron wire,
She who only comes in the midnight hour,
And goes with the song of the bell tower.
O, ghost of sepia nights!
My ever-elusive lover.
