SHADOWS
Sometimes it's bothersome, knowing that you've been reduced to a shadow in the corner after the press crops the photo. Easy to ignore the kid 'cause unless someone's shooting at him, the kid don't matter.
But then you'll get a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye, a phantom with black curls and chubby hands holding up a picture, asking, is that you, Daddy? You turn to her so you can say, sure is, sweetheart, only to find her vanished back to wherever ghosts of possible futures go.
Even so, you find you're not so bothered anymore.
FIN