the shadows of the morning
grow long and wide

they are the last bits of darkness in our world
as the night turns to dawn

the shadows
they tell me

“this is what hope is”

and I ask back
curious to know

“how do you know hope?”

I was confused
how could a shadow know anything of hope

the shadow responded
all so suddenly

“after the long night
there will always be dawn”

and with that
the shadows disappeared into the light