Poem: The Child Who Spoke with Shadows

The Child Who Spoke with Shadows

There was a child who wandered alone,
Through forests deep, where the wild winds moan.
Her friends were not made of flesh or bone,
But whispers that danced in the twilight zone.

She spoke with shadows, soft and wide,
Whispering secrets the world would hide.
They told her of things that none could see,
Of forgotten lands, of infinity.

In the quiet of night, when stars would gleam,
The child would sit by the silver stream.
Her voice was light, her words were few,
But the shadows would listen, they always knew.

“Tell me,” she asked, “what lies ahead?
Where do the lost souls go when they’re dead?”
The shadows would gather, their voices low,
And share the mysteries only they know.

They spoke of the moon’s silent tears,
Of the passage of time, and forgotten fears.
They whispered of dreams that slipped through the cracks,
Of all the things lost that could never come back.

But the child was not afraid, no, not one bit,
She listened with wonder, her heart ever lit.
For in their stories, she found her place,
A world beyond time, a sacred space.

The shadows, they taught her to see with her heart,
To listen to whispers, to never depart
From the quiet truths that the world won’t show,
The secrets that only the shadows know.

And when dawn broke, and the shadows would fade,
The child would smile, and in silence, she’d wade
Through the whispers of light, now soft and grand,
For she carried the shadows, still close at hand.