The evening shadows stretch long on the ground,
As I walk in the dusk slowly homebound,
Musing how time passed me by.
The sky turns scarlet, then velvety black;
One must go forward and never turn back…
Never… till it’s time to die…
Echoes of the past resonates inside,
Even in shadows past pain cannot hide;
Dried up tears cannot be shed.
I walk in shadows… I walk with shadows…
Whilst listening to faint, disturbing echoes
And the whispers of the dead.
© P. J. Oszmann (2003)
© Illustration created in Photoshop from archive (1942-44) photographs (2006)