Waiting Game

when i found my shadow
it was on the doorstep of my home
it sang with dreadful silence
it gave a graceful bow;

it hummed a ditty tune
and pressed a little hue
to the blue paint on my frame
before it smiled and said;

"my friend, why do you linger here so?
the woods were a-waiting for you all day.
why do you tottle-round with nothing to do?"

said I, with a pause at the idea,
"why, I'm busy."

said, he, "not I!"

and he whipped up a cap
which brought him from China and back-
then turned on his feet
and went forward to leap-
over the precipice

my eyes lingered on his figure
as he receded into a flicker  
of white light which often
travels rapidly into the past

but he's never looked back