Shadow People

It was three days afore when they did first appear.

Shifting, fleeting figures; stealthy black and opaque.

Likened are they unto shadows from a rigid summer sun.

They were hurrying images that appeared to always be on the run.

My first thoughts are captured from this a furtive gleaning glance.

They were tricks of the mind that gave reason to mere illusions of chance.

Sometimes they stood on two and other times they shifted silently on four.

Sometimes they darted across an open space; other times from behind a door.

They were few in number when they first in my dimension did arrive.

They seemed bashful; cautious and without nerve, yet on fear they thrive.

Concerns weigh heavy now on my impaled and abating heart.

Sadly, I can no longer discount them as illusions of chance,

For I see them more and more and not withstanding of mere glance.

Emboldened now have they become, appearing oft wherever I should go.

Shadows without voices; figures of uncertainty that this heart does not know.

Driving home from work tonight one came full speed and straight forth my way.

It was darkness on all fours coming toward the car; then nothing but the empty road and my dismay.

I shook my head as in disbelief and let off ever so easy of the brake,

It was a disbelief that did nothing to negate the tentative condition of my relief.

I know not of what these apparitions may be, I know not of what they want with me.

Yet their presence is no longer in doubt and now I find fear where there was once peace.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/24/07