In the quiet of a morning caught
the spellbinding sight of a rising sun
caught whispering to the soul
caressing the mind with thoughts of a day to come.
Eyes find their way through dream states,
memories of lingering images like wallpaper
strung up on the walls to see
moving through the museum of surreal things
we touch the fabric of that which we cannot name.
Resting on the tip of tongue
we hesitate perhaps a moment too long,
and watching as it fades from sight
the mirage ghost-like and cherished
then silently let go.
Who are we in these moments,
caught between wake and sleep
in Neverland worlds of beauty we wander
thoughts tracing words on invisible pads
and indigo ink mark our passage
lest we forget where we had been
on our return to those foreign lands,
as the clouded gate creaks with age
we gentle push forward and enter
the place where thoughts sit waiting
remembered once more.