Tuesday, 01 September 2009




Sleepily murmuring, not
Certain as yet what manner
Of pleasure this is, or if
It is part of your dream or
The waking to come, you turn,
Arrange yourself, and accept
The sensation. And I,
Uncertain, not of the act,
But whether I've been given
Permission to enter
And mingle myself with what
You are dreaming, advance
Like a child in a game, two steps
Forward, one back, until I
Am sure of a welcome. You
Open your eyes, suddenly,
And I am caught out, stumble,
Drown in the turbulent blue.


This site was last updated 01-09-2009