My thoughts upon waking:
Sometimes a dream can cause one to sit upright in bed gasping for breath. This was so this morning. Alas, what is causing my distress?
Standing alone on a cobble stone street
I stare at the black leather faces of my shoes
And view their void eyes save for laces
My skirts have not hidden these
What hides beneath cloak, cloth, and skin
Is an essence too strong to jar
Be it capture or shock
Tis weak to my knowing
Yet not so to the unassuming
Who goes there!
Whose eyes have glanced here?
Hark! the break of silent darkness!
In the distance, my ride can be heard
Clickety clack goes the hoofs of the black drawn carriage
All is illuminated by the waxing moon
Sight of shining wetness of a rain gone by
Is reflective and drawing
A puddle does make for a good looking-glass
Yet the subject is unwilling to see her portrait
But see it she does
Where is the horseman? - June 29, 2006
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