Who are all these shades,
Figures passing as mists
Across the memories
Of places and times
Long past?
Forgotten yet remembered,
Gait and voice and laugh
Fists raised in anger,
Hands with gentle touch,
Benediction,
Blessing,
Dismissal.
Lessons learned
Without teaching
All imprinted upon
The man I am,
The shades themselves,
Fading more
With passing time,
More dim in memory,
Than the mark they made.
Donovan Baldwin