Other People's Horses Stream Milk White

other people's horses stream milk white
in the clouds so far from here.
you dream they will come to you

but then their morning fades.
they disappear.
tomorrow other riders will come

to the same glass mountains.
they will think they've won.
and who will dispute them.

its hard to feel where you will be then.
no longer waking up in the same room
ghost or spectator

merely a child again
where none of this seemed real
when you stepped from dream to dream

turning your head
when they called you-
or is it you, they mean?

mary angela douglas 17 november 2015