AWOL

The fallen candle shades play games in this haven
Childish games of hiding and seeking
Clustered, violet feathers to streak in the breezes
With discerning eyes their shadows are leaking

Dripping with snow that melts to the soil
A piece of their memory lost to the earth
They don't seem to notice, or even to care
An undoing of sutures the past isn't worth

And peering closer still to the mesmerized phantoms
It's clearly not children who play in these columns
A dandelion flurry has encompassed their prowess
And the soldier's sad dance is eerily solemn