My Wafer-thin Friend

My shadow’s here, but never mind.
It likes to stick close by.
And when I run, it’s left behind,
but follows on the sly.

It has a plain and simple face;
I’ve seen it pick its nose.
I’ve seen it squeeze through tiny space;
but never changes clothes?

And will it tell me answers when
the lessons get quite tough?
And will it make a brand new den,
or simply gather fluff?

And if I stamp upon its head;
will shrieks of pain come out?
And why’s it dark, not blue, or red,
and why’s it never shout?

It seems to like a piggy back,
this light and airy form.
I’ve seen it steal my anorak,
when walking through a storm.

And why's it feel the need to be
much taller than myself?
And does it say, “Now, look at me,”
when posing on a shelf?

I’ve just looked up and seen the sky,
this game’s no longer fun.
The shadow is a ghost, goodbye,
‘Cos there’s no sign of sun!