Flying in the air
Or walking on the ground
Shadows too walk
I often find
Sometimes they talk.
And sing too.
But shadows don’t lie.
As we often do
Shadows do fall.
They don’t get hurt.
They, too, get lost.
In a journey of the desert
They hold our hand.
And stay at worst.
I am dead in mirage.
They don’t die of thirst.
kisalaya.copyright 2011
