imagination's clearest pane is breathed upon
fern imprinted, silver dusted from the suns
behind pale clouds of gold
a shivering breeze and
suddenly, our words are clouded over
and a presence thrums
and something like
the tinkling of small bells has come
it's in between leaf and leaf
the circumference of the rose
half guessed at, behind
snow blnded eyes
and dreams flit in and out of
reality
haunting your disguise
and you won't hear a thing
when the evening news comes on
which doesn't mean
beyond your chintz covered
arm chair
the ghosts aren't all
still there...
mary angela douglas 24 july 2017
fern imprinted, silver dusted from the suns
behind pale clouds of gold
a shivering breeze and
suddenly, our words are clouded over
and a presence thrums
and something like
the tinkling of small bells has come
it's in between leaf and leaf
the circumference of the rose
half guessed at, behind
snow blnded eyes
and dreams flit in and out of
reality
haunting your disguise
and you won't hear a thing
when the evening news comes on
which doesn't mean
beyond your chintz covered
arm chair
the ghosts aren't all
still there...
mary angela douglas 24 july 2017
