shadows fall from the
feet, neither warm nor
cold; the shadow follows
down a sandy moonlit road.
Emerging from the sidewalks,
scaling the face of a building,
sometimes trembling, it fears,
sometimes wavy with broken
lines; yet unbroken it moves in
perfect time; its own life it cannot
It moves forward both day and night,
sometime with menacing fright; its
only possession rooted in time; an
unloving thing, one of a kind.