And a gracious shout out to all you Skidmore Theater geeks, whomever you is;
Shadow Tricks
My Shadow tricks in puckish fun
When we play out in the brightest sun
At work, at play, even Sunset
His mocking me is not done yet
My Shadow is phobic with doors
For crossing them he just abhors
When I go in, him I won’t see
He pouts outdoors, and vexes me
At night, from on the welcome mat
I’ll call to him, like he’s a cat
By star or moon he’ll glow and fade
About the yard, wisps of night shade
But most nights he is never seen
And I do not know where he’s been
Yet when by bed I turn my lamp
Then there he is, that gibeling scamp!
My shadow’s first crawled into bed
Before me, now, still as the dead
My Shadow Imp! Where have you been?
Damn Shadow Imp! Who let you in?
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