Some people believe there are shadow people
People who exist in a parallel dimension
That we only glimpse in our peripheral vision
Who flash briefly and then
Disappear.
Sounds crazy, I know, but there are times I almost...
Well, you could say I'm a semi –
I mean, there are times when . . .
A rush of ecstasy
A dark flicker in the side of my eye
I snap my head and glimpse
A scarf whisks around an oak
I dash over
And catch a lilac breeze
A fading giggle.
The chase is on.
I cloak myself in metaphors
Peer under verdant nouns
Snatch elusive verbs
Weave my treasures together
Then collapse,
Exhausted
With a wilted plume
And a sweat-stained paper –
A pitiful semblance of truth –
Yes, there are times
When I'm tempted to . . .
But if seeing is believing
Well, then at least I'm content to
Be exhilarated by another flash
Of my shadow Muse.