Mirage

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