padding her nest so big.
When the last leaves turn, drop to the ground,
cold wind and snowflakes abound,
ghosts disappear; were they even here?
Their footprints can never be found.
Is it a monster? A person on stilts? A peanut-head circus fright?
A long-legged clown walking around, waiting for the darkness of night?
And as you can plainly see...
it isn't a monster or wacky clown.
It's simply a shadow of ME.