Questions

The questions are neither trivial nor trite:
I am stalked by my shadow like a dog in summer,
I mean to catch his eye, he looks askance,

Walk on tiptoes to navigate this dance, 
Appraise him of my presence out of sight.
He knows my mind, I contemplate his gestures,

Walking alone, I see him in the distance,
My double, though reversed inside a mirror,
Scarcely a wisp of cloud to mar the sky.

In what things are we different, he and I? 
When did we part company? These days I can't,
However I stoop and peer, come any closer,

Decipher more than hints, must pass over
Lengthy pauses that await no answer,
Divulge no confidence, none than might

Deny us both a free-hand in our error, 
However much we set the world to rights,
Go on like him, like him neglect to ask
These questions neither trivial nor  trite.




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