A Hovering Disturbance

A shadow
beneath the bleachers,
can they see it?
Always present.
Hearing,
Observing,
Screaming.
It’s like the wind that never blows.
Days of fire pass,
And pleas of relief surface,
Until the wind gives in.
Gratitude, again, is
forgotten.
And unworthy, the wind slows,
Unappreciated.
Unnoticed.
Like the shadow.
Why can’t they see them?
Why cant the hear them?
They should combine forces
And create a tornado.
But for now,
They will remain separate, silent.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting