In This Silent Hour
Roofs, dreaming in the cityscape
In this silent hour when the soft grey sky speaks
When nobody calls me by my name;
The mind, soft in melancholy
Asks why, and then again why.
In this silent hour, moments pass.
There are footsteps behind me
Dreaming, I must be.
Or waking, walking within the dream
I may not be all that I seem.
Flights of imagination once again
The past and present merge;
Blend into one pristine fancy:
Now, then, before, tenses blend
Is this how the silent hour will end.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Roofs, dreaming in the cityscape
In this silent hour when the soft grey sky speaks
When nobody calls me by my name;
The mind, soft in melancholy
Asks why, and then again why.
In this silent hour, moments pass.
There are footsteps behind me
Dreaming, I must be.
Or waking, walking within the dream
I may not be all that I seem.
Flights of imagination once again
The past and present merge;
Blend into one pristine fancy:
Now, then, before, tenses blend
Is this how the silent hour will end.
Copyright: Rani Turton
1 comment:
this is well formed and hauntingly evocative.
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