the shadow

staggers behind


out of rhythm

humming a song

no one ever heard


there were times

of shadow separation

crossing the line

a string of walk-a-ways

never followed through

or followed up


and the lack of respect

the disinterest toward the


spending time

leaning, fading back,

crossing over

or through puddles


but it yet stays

with extra hands to help

and legs to run

and shoulders to

accept grief


inescapable passion

bonds them.



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