Friday, 11 December 2015


I see her
For a few seconds here and there,
A face in a dream,
A moment in a mirror.

I see her dancing freely
To music only she could hear,
I watched her fall,
And face her fear.
I know her drunk as sober,
On clear mornings and hazy nights.

Maybe she was on a journey,
Through a garden, or doors
With locks and keys,
Finding hope in tiny boxes,
Or tripping amongst leaves.

She can be a clown
or caring friend
Wearing blankets or evening gown.
Lost in hotel corridors,
And never found again.

I watch her character grow,
She's caught between mind and paper,
Always waiting for me to take her,
Places I can't go.

I won't write her down yet,
She'll loiter for longer
In a library among dusty books,
Finding pens
with ink long dry,

And tomorrow she'll run through rain,
But only I'll know why...


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