SHADOW I barely feel the morning breeze that softly strokes my breast. I nearly missed the morning moon that faded in the West. The lorikeets that fight across my sky would have been missed in silent quest, but I looked upward, I looked outward and I saw. I seem to see the morning breeze that makes the roses dance. I sometimes think I found the birds that happened here by chance. I often wish to change the past and suffer when I can’t, then I look upward, I look inward and I see. You’re leaving now and won’t return; you try to reach me yet. I watch you go and know my love was stronger when we met. I try to put a measure on my grief and find a shadow of an echo of regret. A shadow of an echo of regret. (c) Anita Sinclair 2nd January 2005.