My Constant Companion

I have a constant companion who's always in front of me,
He's usually shy and hiding, in his shrouded canopy.
He likes to play peekaboo and always has a ball,
His stature often vacillates, from short to very tall.

His voice is non-existent, he has no face you see,
He's annoyingly persistent, uncontrollably.
His head is rather large, no arms or legs to play,
He's really quite peculiar, in a manly sort of way.

I have to take him with me, everywhere I go,
He's part of my persona, my unforeseen shadow,
His single-minded arrogance is embarrassing to me,
As he rises without warning, non-consensually.

And when I let him out to play he's happy as can be,
He stretches beyond amazement, his one-eyed world to see.
The women, they all love him, he's coy-full and carefree,
His greatest gift, the joy he brings, his masculinity.

And when the day is finally done, his purpose spent, complete.
He tends to dwell in a turtle-shelled, zippered hotel suite.
He sleeps calm and peacefully, his goals firmly met.
His dreams form increasingly, often warm and wet.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm029
061509

My Constant Companion

Dedicated to Robert Louis Stevenson andh his poem My Shadow , a childhood treat from his book A Child's Garden of Verses.


I have a constant companion who's always in front of me,
He's usually shy and hiding, in his shrouded canopy.
He likes to play peekaboo, he always has a ball,
His stature often vacillates, from short to very tall.

His voice is non-existent, he has no face you see,
He's annoyingly persistent, often uncontrollably.
His head is rather large, no arms or legs to play,
He's really quite peculiar, in a manly sort of way.

I have to take him with me, wherever I may go,
He's attached to my persona, my unforeseen shadow,
His single-minded arrogance breeds social embarrassment,
As he rises on occasion, bereft prodding or consent.

And when I let him out to play he's happy as can be,
He stretches beyond amazement, his one-eyed world to see.
The women, they all love him, he's coy-full and carefree,
His greatest gift, the joy he brings, his masculinity.

And when the day is done, his purpose spent complete,
He tends to dwell in a turtle shelled, zippered hotel suite,
He usually sleeps peacefully, his daily goals all met,
His dreams stiffly vivid, his slumber usually wet.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
061509