Friday, 8 July 2011


Floating quietly amid the dust motes of reality they wait,
forever held in the moment they were formed,
then shattered when we woke.

Walking on clouds; running down corridors;
trying to find that which was lost, a kiss, a touch,
all swimming together now, just waiting for sleep's arrival.

Like fireflies they gather, singing sweet melodies,
yet heard only from within, fragments; slivers;
the shimmering shards of a dream.


  1. I live this. You captured it perfectly. It is beautiful.

  2. shards of a dream... indeed... :-)

  3. Thank you for your lovely comments.

    Martin, I am so glad you do too!

    Thanks Abi :)

  4. An angry stray mastiff stood growling between me and my favorite firefly sanctuary the other night. I drove it off, but returned up the hill, forgetting my little lantern-bearing friends. Your poem brings them back to me, and I will return, mastiff or none.