Shadows are behind me,
I see them out of the corner of my eye.
They are not a threat, you see,
Just figments of a time gone bye.
I can see them, feel them, smell them,
They hold old memories fast,
And like the flower's supporting stem,
They help the beauty last.
I used to slink from shadows when,
Far back my soul was new,
But now they give unto my pen,
The poet's only due.
Ne'er a shadow cast a spell,
That was't not simply pure,
And ne'er a shadow did so well,
That I could not endure.
So cast ye shadows now at me,
For never will I waver,
But to crane out far to see,
This old memory of time to savor.
All the shadows soft now fall,
And in them I will stride,
For they are only memory's call,
And in them I abide.