My shadow was the light that would follow me,
the ghost is emptiness where the shadow used to be.
The apparition is gently opening the door,
finding my shadow doesn’t wait for me anymore.
Stepping on my shadow in the gloom of the night,
its ghost is my memory when the sun shines bright.
My shadow would levitate its food in the air,
the ghost is the story of a feat so rare.
Casts the shadow no longer, yet the ghost is always near,
the mournful presence of moments held dear.