Shadows

Shadows move with the wind or motion,
Swaying and bouncing along grounds and walls.
Images of objects in front of illuminations,
Moving with their own delights.
Shadows show when the sun shines bright,
Or even in the dimmest moonlit night.
They can be romantic with lovers in hand,
Or horrifying during a thunderous storm.
They dance to the rhythm of a melancholy wind,
Even perched on edges seeming ready to pounce.
You make funny figures with the shape of your hand,
Or become evil images with the shapes of death.
In the deepest darkest of spaces,
No shadows you see, no light to be.
Shadows come in all shapes, all sizes, all shades,
All depending on the lighting around.

GravyDave © March 1998

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