My friends are shadows
that are inseparable to me
at the breaking dawn of morn,
when the eternal golden torch
is dazzling bright like the candles
in the quaint church...
But at creeping sundown
when my chips have fallen down
and night swallows whole my soul
with the endearing songs of the lark
no more heard in the dark,
Then shall my shadows
not be seen following me
in the gloomy grieve of night.
Alas! my friends are what
they feign to be not.

© Karo Umukoro - May 2003