Photography

My long shadow treks
on speckled decks.
With arched-over neck
I write my texts.

By empty fountains
my long shadow stands.
Between two mountains
I mull over plans.

My bold shadow rises
on mock sails I ride
in shadow disguises
I abide in pride.

The sun flashes gazes
down on Bernard.
I finish my phrases.
I complete my regard.

My short shadow drifts
into dusk it shifts
blending so pretty
into anonymity.

Annie Zed