Fingers creating shadows. Photo by Angela Lansbury.
Last night I saw something so strange
The image haunted me today
As I'd walked with light behind me
My shadow seemed to lead the way.
It showed me where I was going
It gaily nodded up and down
It echoed, but seemed to lead me
On focused path along the ground
Leave only footsteps, people plead
Do not leave litter on the way
Walk as lightly as a shadow
Painted echo of your good day
In a painting vital shadows
Point the way that stick figures walk
The direction of the bright sun
The painter's silent form of talk
I have not, yet, made a painting
Last night's shadow has gone away
Yet the image stays in my mind
A tantalising sign today
Sometimes the light's behind me so shadows lead the way
But when the light's in front to guide, I don't see what shadows say
But left or right the bright sun shines
So you may read what fingers say.
-ends-
All this week our book at bedtime has been about English painter Lowry, famous for his crowds of leaning stick figures which seem to march across the page.
Please share links to your favourite poems.
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