I am walking under the crescent,
thinking about the past and the present.
My hands in my pockets,
of my winter coat.
It’s cold,
so am I,
inside the warm coat.
Different shadows appear and fade,
all around me.
in my right,
in my left,
in front of me,
and behind me.
They come and go.
I think someone is trailing me,
from behind,
Or even above.
No one is around, I look.
It’s just my shadow.
I realize everyone leaves but not the shadows.

Mohammed Arafat
22-02-2020