I could play with light for hours on end.
Sitting in the dark with nothing but a flashlight, throwing shadows onto the walls
My imaginary friends.
You see, know one could see them
Not even me
All I could ever see were their shadows.
They would run and dance and skitter over the blank white walls
Hanging from the ceiling.
I was fascinated.
They would act out stories and plays, indulging my imagination.
And even now, those old friends long gone, I play with shadows.
Strike a match
Flick the lighter
And watch the shadows dance like they never left me.
A warm glow as a background for the stories told
A shadow of a hand grazing over these painted walls.
And even though there is a completely logical reason for this happening
I can believe it’s magic.
I’m trying something new for a few days. Excuse the random hiatus, life has been more than a little crazy. But I’m back on track and can’t wait to write regularly and more than before. Probably with more poems and such like this.
Until next time,
Signing off, Quill x