Poem By Victor S. Wallace

The wind blows the trees around.
The shadows constantly changing on the ground.
The Sun goes behind a Cloud.
The shadows silently disappear in the shroud.
The cloud floats out of sight. The Sun is instantly out bright.
From nowhere, the shadows are back,
Maneuvering skillfully right on track.
Shadow is shade; Rest! Our dues are paid
Shadows come and move to and fro.
On a hot day, we know where to go.
A shadow never controls itself,
But the Painter, regulates each shadow by himself.
God's paintbrush is always busy, - never on the shelf.

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Other poems of VICTOR S. WALLACE


Do you feel alone and on the shelf.
And blame everyone except yourself?
Look out your window,
And see the world at play.


When you come to the end of the road,
Go ahead, explode, do not go back,
Blaze out a new trail.
In time, a Super Highway, may unveil. Fully Grown Picturing the future,