Friday, 26 July 2013

Ghost Morning


Sleep itself seemed a hot blanket, to be shrugged aside: a sluggish gesture, not quite successful. Half awake and able to hear a glass of water calling, a cool clear note of antithesis.
Irresistible is forgotten, though: the stairwell window, undressed, shows the world as though swallowed, lost in the belly of a ghost.
-Oh yes, a glass of water.
For a few hours, the heat spell is broken. Settle under a better sleep.

3 comments:

  1. Beautiful photos --scenes slipping in and out of consciousness nearly-- and poem. Yes, poem: "Settle under a better sleep." I've never seen four words joined more smoothly. My compliments.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yesterday I read in a book by a naturalist skeptic describing waking before he was ready as 'trailing sleep behind him like a comet.' It sounded sooo Lily Tequila to me.

    ReplyDelete
  3. *Takes a bow*
    Thank you, thank you. It felt like a poem :-)
    Loving the phrase 'sooo Lily Tequila'
    Somewhere between proud and giggly right now!

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here: