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A small shaddow flits restlessly on the lower wall,

Hardly noticable at all, just a tot it seems.

gradully as the days pass by the shadow reaches a little higher,

It seems to move a cross the room with the ease of a small balloon.

As the shadow grows larger its movements become slower,

Becoming more intense some how,

What was light misty grey is darker now.

Then as the day dwindles to an end,

It disappears from view,

Then is back again in the early Morn stronger and thicker,

what is this thing that grows and fades,

Just a curtain blowing in the wind it would seem.