The Shadow on the wall
Grows larger, clearer.
On dark night as I lie abed,
Reading and musing of the past,
Thinking of what the old man said ----
''You are not wholly real, my boy.
Part of you came from 'way Out There'', ----
I call him wrong! I've lived and read
And dound my body and my hair
Resembles that of other men.
Sometimes the eerie shadow shifts;
The light behind me casts a form
Most strange. It weaves and oddly lifts
And scares me. It melts and flows
From light purple to deep red wine.
I Shudder as it slowly drifts
And bares the wall. What shape entwine
And mold the restless figure there?
The shadow in my mind
Grow larger, clearer . . . .