Silhouette

She admired it, that silhouette; 
she wanted it, that silhouette.
She thought she knew 
its tints and shades.
So she chased it, that silhouette.

Dark and still, 
it was what she wasn’t; 
from a land so far,
where she been hadn’t.

The closer she went,
closer she wanted to go;
the closer it came,
farther she wanted it to go.

Many attempts of
calling out to it later,
she found that it didn’t notice her;
she realised, much to her amusement,
that it may have seen her,
but as a silhouette.