Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Dreams - a poem





What dreams are these
that float into my leary
subconsciousness?


Soft and filmy they rise
so I can see just enough through the mist
as I sleep; the wondrous forms


Merge and melt together
blurred and diaphanous they are as
I reach to touch and to hold them


They are waif-like ghosts gently
reminding me of some far away persons,
place and time; impossible to grasp


Entreating me to follow and join them
on their quest in the billowy fog
I touch only to feel them disintegrating between my fingers


Everywhere I turn, befuddlement
as the phantasmas glide past
my stupor, my trance-like state


A cellulose quest just an illusion
as a sheer blanket descents to cover 
my translucent dreams


Lulling me back into a warm slumber
that is dark, dangerous and deep
What dreams are these . . . .


Copyright (c)  2013  Suzannah Wolf Walker   all rights reserved