White-washed Walls

By Anatolia T. Kozinski

On white-washed walls was light factored

When the moon-light passed through the windows

The city lights far away

Deep blue shadows rest on the walls in the room

Outside is the moist air of a silent evening

Little feet could be heard shuffling through the door

A girl slides down on a wall in the room

And her rust-orange cotton catches paint

The air to her is both musty and fresh, familiar and foreign

In the darkness, her city is gone