I'll tell you all a secret That I feel in my bones: I think my Shadow's moving, And acting on its own. I see it shifting sometimes Just outside my view, But when I turn to see it, It's still, and never moves. It follows me around, Not like a shadow should; As if it's keeping step with me - I'd catch it if I could. Sometimes, I swear it's smiling— Though shadows cannot smile. Sometimes, it'll stop somewhere, And linger for a while. I've tried to make it mimic me, But it refused to play. I raise my arms, it folds its own; I turn, it looks away. I stomp my feet; it skips along. I wave; it bows its head. I stand completely still - It takes another step instead. I asked it once, quite quietly, "Just what are you about?" It seemed to shrug its shoulders, Then it simply faded out. But when I started walking, There it was again, A little farther off than me, Around the corner then. I've tried to catch it many times, But shadows are too quick. They slip beneath the furniture And hide behind a brick. And lately I've begun to think It does this just for fun. It waits until I'm looking close, Then darts away and runs. I'm not afraid, exactly. It's simply rather odd To see a shaded form Wear its own facade. I wonder if it knows me, Or if it thinks I'm strange. I wonder if it wonders why I never seem to change. Yesterday, at sunset, The whole world turned to gold - My Shadow stepped in front of me, Did something rather bold. It turned around and faced me - At least, that's how it seemed. Then threw its arms out wide and bowed, Like something I had dreamed. I laughed, and it laughed with me, Though shadows cannot laugh. And when I started walking home, It followed down my path. Perhaps I've got a Shadow That's more alive than most; Maybe it's more vivacious Than I am as the host. If it's found vigor of its own, I suppose that's quite alright. Perhaps I'll follow it tomorrow, See where it goes at night. So now, I let it wander, And give it room to roam. For if my Shadow's found a life,