Deep Shadows

for Monday Poetry Train

I go to Seattle and came back with you
and Chinese takeout. Chopsticks click
into a sweet and sour night,

moon shadows gather in the garden,
a red dress hangs in the closet.
Voices from a troubled past

interrupt and compel you
to drift away like morning fog.
Why do you come back

to the shadows of my dreams?
Bright lights leave deep shadows,
it's just an empty dress.