The Shade

There was a dim, dear silhouette
Upon my wall. It moved its head
To imitate the moves I made.
And yet, I think it had no fun.
And thus, I’d better be the one
Who casts an independent shade

That lives an ordinary life
And swears to love its shadow-wife
Until the end of Time and Light.
Alas, my shade is doomed to move
The way I do beneath this roof
Inside the silence of the night.

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