Constant Companion

I.

I will not
flee from the sun with you,
for you would only
leave me trailing behind.
I will not
walk into the dawn with you,
for I don't know
what you do at my back.
When I've turned north,
then I will take you with me,
as your steps match
exactly with mine.


II.

outside i wonder what you play on rainy days
what hands and feet you follow then
and what rays shape your blurry frame
but in my house i can still see you
creeping around the corners back to me
and i don't have to wonder anymore.


III.

I dreamed that
darkness swallowed you,
set you free to wander,
and wrenched your fingers
from my own--

perhaps at night you
skip up to the clouds
and make a game of
hiding from the stars--

but don't forget
that when daylight returns,
you must flicker down to me
and once again be mine.