The curfew tolls the knell of parting day…..

A shadow emerges, slyly, on the way

Who is this shape mimicking me

Who’s so familiar, poised to flee


Is it a ghost to guide me on

To stretch me forward ‘til I’m gone?

Magicked by the setting sun

Could I pass her if I run?


A manifestation which does not exist

Yet has more promise than solid flesh

I’ve never minded shadows, ever

But now I think she’s being clever


I want to be rid, to bid her adieu

A Maori proverb is the coup

“Turn your face to the Sun,

Then the shadows fall behind you”

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