• If I sit and think too long,
    My mind will start to wander.

    Though eight years have passed, here I still sit,
    To tell you of my twenty six years of living.

    I have a daughter who is but eight,
    Her eyes sparkle as mine did when I met him.

    The Shadow, I named him, such a fitting name,
    The movements he made in stealth, untraceable.

    I remember the night when I stood alone,
    On the balcony of my father's home.

    My eyes shifted over the river and trees,
    With the moon as a background for all to see.

    But it was my private show that night,
    As I watched a shadow shift in the light.

    A cold chill crossed my flushed cheeks,
    Before my golden eyes reverted back to the river.

    I squinted in bewilderment for a time,
    Before cold hands touched my skin.

    I did naught to protest, and soon we fell,
    Into satin sheets, our lips they were locked.

    The night was long, but the bed was warm,
    What I felt I cannot describe to you.

    I petitioned my father and pleaded,
    Though he was senile his tone was no.

    Despite his answer, I did what my heart said,
    And thrice days later, wed were my Shadow and I.

    He was a man not more than twenty,
    With the experience of a man well in their prime.

    Four months we were happy together,
    My Shadow and I, I never knew his name.

    When the four months ended, the general came,
    He sought my Shadow's services for the war.

    Two years came and went with no sign of end,
    Nine letters later, the tenth one came.

    It read how sorry they were to leave me with a child,
    With no man anywhere near to help me.

    The news of his death hit me hard,
    Before I even read his name the letter fell to the ground.

    The only thing I had left to do was cry,
    And that I did, the tears pooling at my feet.

    Our daughter that I birthed while he was gone,
    Her movements as wondrous as he, her looks like mine.

    Looked at me ever so sadly and with head a-tilt,
    Uttered but a single word to me, "Daddy?"

    My own head I then shook as I watched her,
    Six years since then and so much she grew.

    She is all I could hope for with out her father,
    Sitting on the porch and watching her gleefully.

    Can't you see her dancing? Dance my lovely little angel,
    Dance with Daddy, before he goes back up to heaven.