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
shadow
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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