Shadow

 

every night you visit me.

every day I wait and watch, hoping against hope to see even a shadow of you.

yet you are never there.

only at night.

only at night does your hand brush over mine, do your lips caress my skin.

only when all the world slumbers do you return to me – not making a sound.

never once do I hear you, not your voice, not your step I still listen for after all these years.

every night I fall asleep in your arms, and every dawn I wake and you are gone.

not a whisper left of you, not an impression, not a shadow.

you have no shadow now, dear.

no shadow to chase to work every day, nor to chase you home to me every eve.

no shadow to cover me from the sun when you find me in the park with a book on Saturday afternoons.

where has your shadow gone, dear?

where has it run?

where have you hidden it?