Shadow Walkers

Amélie Senécal

Eyes the colour of mud,
And skin the blandest of beiges.
She blended in with the world,
One with the wind,
Never seen.

She was but the faintest of rumbles,
Resembling that of a scraping chair.
And when she opened her mouth,
Nothing but a whisper flew by.

The world had cast her aside,
Sentencing her to a life of solitude.
And as she travelled through the shadows,
She became my epiphany.

Eyes the colour of life,
Skin resembling the fairest of ornaments.
Her presence was fierce as her steps resonated,
Owning the night around her.

When she spoke,
A tornado of sound enveloped our souls.
Two in that instance,
One we became.

We walk through the shadows,
Those who have seen us have joined.
We walk through the shadows,
And have found no greater joy.

Originally Published on Vol.50 Issue 02 on Wednesday, September 23rd, 2020

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