It was a long and misty flight
Back from the distant realms
Of magic and imagination
Where I bred a child’s perception
To escape the world’s devouring harshness.
Worn out from the journey,
Drawn back to the body, its weaknesses,
The head pushed back into the pillow
Sighing and struggling for breath
Watching the spellbound pages of the open book
Waving a long-dreaded farewell.
To pen it down in lines; what I felt,
Searched around and found all I needed,
But ‘will’ alone vanished somewhere.
The telephone vibrated in a long drone,
Voices and words of chaos coming through,
A heavy sigh; the abandoned painting
Left behind a small space of mine,
Mine alone, on the fringes of dreamy falls.
