.
Fragments of strange dreams
Surround me in nightly tiny hours.
Shards of someone else's life?
Or a forgotten one of mine?
They glitter all around me.
Little rainbows that cast light
And multi-colored shadows
Into the secret corners,
Misty spaces of the night.
Seen, it seems, through others’ eyes
With calm serenity.
They remain, through mine,
A strange parade
Of fixed uncertainty.
Places that, of course, I know.
But peopled with a cast
Of not quite total strangers
Whose knowing glances ask,
“Can you truly not remember
Where we went upon that day?
The things we said?
The lives we lived?
Before you went away?”
So I look in vain around me
For a solitary clue
Of who this carping stranger is.
Of what they were to me
Before I set off sailing
On this shining midnight sea.
It is a useless query though,
For when I start to speak
The stranger’s face has vanished.
While instead a dreamy fragment
Joins the pile at my feet.
So I pull the sheet up round my neck -
Drifting slowly back to sleep.
.
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