Words; tripping around my head
as dawn overtakes me,
evade capture to slip away silent, silken
like shredded mist gripped in pale fingers
tattered images about not wearing brave emotion
for another goodbye which tugs fearful ears.
What dream echoed my cavernous mind,
lingered as I surfaced slowly from sleep?
And of course I want to poem it,
entomb it in meaning,
understand thought's inapparent portent
and hope to snatch further glimmers
before sun burns off the last remnants
easy as clouds in a desert morning.
Though with pen I plumb the depths
nothing hooks to ease wonder's burden
no idea which emotion or who speaks
leaves me shaken slightly;
these waking whispers have become before;
I'll watch for omens.