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Pale Sleep Awakens In Fallowed Dreams
Pale sleep awakens.
Another light scorns the earth
as crooked fingers lash down,
their jagged streaks slashed by
nagging pall puffs, shattered
by lofty white swirls.
Breath drawn in- then out,
burying itself in rusted, fallowed
dreams and nettled streams of
daylight bleeding through
slatted blinds.
Humming drones of life
whine along bustling streets.
Sphinxian machinery grinds
stone to dust, settling somewhere,
lost in a terra incognita- finding homes
in pink blushed skies, and seaports where
the smell of fish and oil hover over wharfs.
Market flowers wag brilliant heads,
seeking homes. Songbirds scold,
haggling over baptism in shallow basins.
Dead leaves rattle on pavement,
scratching destinies, left to southern winds.
The sun tips its hat to the moon,
and slides to an end...to begin again.
Copyright ©
Dana Young
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