A Winter Evening

Whose shadow is there, shining bright ,
I think I do not know-
Whether it is a reflection or a shadow;
And so I doubt.
Bare foot's silence caresses the grass,
Tip toe when it comes  to rocks,
Down by the river, whose shadow it is?

Curtains of willow strings
Dance with leaves to grooves;
Down by the green valley-
Where water runs in the river,
Tip toe, tip toe is heard.

Forgetting it will snow soon,
Yet, it's so faraway from home.
Something brushed through her hair-
Was it the owner of the shadow?
Was the evening playing tricks?
Twirled to see nothingness,
Rolled the ebony eyes sensing it's a drought.

Skipping alone, I guess she felt, the first drop of flakes
Combing through the darkness.
Dwelling in own thoughts-
Welcoming the harsh wind with open arms so wide,
Skipped where the shadow lived.

 

Reached by the river,
To see that silhouette-
To which she sped,
What may it be?
Brushed her palm on the big tree next,
Ceased all steps, gazed the shadow bearer-
Was it who she thought?

Down by the river,
Curtains of willow strings-
Under the moonlight,
Born extremely thought awakening shadows,
Shadows that make one's heart skip a beat.