Poem: As A Shadow

Were I to sit with the setting sun

warm upon my face,

she might cast a long shadow

of the man I want to be.

The dark form waits patiently,

watching, growing

whether or not anyone looks on.

When brightness makes clear

what does not belong,

it shows more clarity and depth

than cold refusal.

The shadow is sure and ever-faithful,

sometimes cloud-hidden,

never truly absent.

Should darkness fall it does not flee

but settles calmly into

grace-filled unknowns.

May I become one such shadow—nearly unnoticed—a steadfast reminder of the sun.