Some would say that shadows are frightening things to be at the very least wary of if not out right afraid of. Shadows have a different connotation for me. Shadows are indeed my friends. The shadows are what I need them to be. In the depths of the dark gaping wound from which my loneliness originates I can almost imagine that the shadow pressed against the wall is a man dressed in black come to watch over me whilst I sleep and chase away that which would change my dreams into things nightmarish. Many times have I stirred in my sleep and felt an added weight across the shoulders reminiscent of a heavy coat or cloak laid across my back. Sometimes if the moonlight shines just right through my window I can almost imagine that I can see someone smiling down on me.And should I wake from a nightmare no sooner have my eyes flown open then there is almost a whisper in my ear,”It’s all right sweetheart, it was just a dream, I’ve got you I promise.” and I drift back with the half formed thought that there is now warmth where there was none before as though someone was now lying behind my back. The draft which creeps its way underneath my window might well be fingers stroking my hair and and the side of my face and the back of my neck. As soon as dawns pearl grey lightens my window my shadow Knight must take his leave, the barest whisper against my ear,”Good morning Love.” Before I can open my eyes he has fled. He’ll return though he always does.