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Shadows

Shadows

Shadows will dance around the moon
when fate comes knocking at my door,
when I'm too old and too weary
to embrace life's zest anymore.

Shadows lengthen at the day's end
when the best that bides on the morrow
are yesterday's memories of
all the joy and none of the sorrow.

Shadows fall across the cold graves
of all the things that came undone
and of all the things I have buried
on my best and worst days in the sun.

Shadows drape the near horizon
that separates heaven from earth.
All I'm allowed to know this day
is my fate's been known since my birth

Shadows grow in back of my eyes,
robbing me of day's sentient light
sending me final word that soon
I'll gentle go into that good night.

Copyright © John Newlin

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