I stand barefoot
at the balcony door,
looking out
as evening  settles the city.

Already the condo has filled
with shadows,
some gray, like memory,
others darker, like regret.

If I am king of this castle,
lord of this manor,
why do I feel like a squatter,
a pretender to some throne
meant for one mightier than I?

Text and image © 2013 by Dirk deVries. All
rights reserved.