My shadow is a blackened version of myself,
The dark to my light, the one dimension to my three,
Four, and five facial expressions.
My shadow does not speak to offer advice or an ear to listen,
Yet stands beside me and grows in summer like
The cherry blossoms outside of my home.
I want to play a game of switch with my shadow
When I am scared to creep out of bed in the morning and
When I am moved by the waves of regret.
The waves are not my friends,
They seek to hold me under water without air
While my shadow wrestles along with me,
The one dimension full of action but no words,
And though I envy the action, I can not seem to find the right words.
© 2012 Christy Birmingham
This is christyb, do you ever muse about your shadow?