Читать книгу From Anxiety To Poetry - - Страница 43

The moment of waking where

Dreams are ousted by reality

And senses abruptly register

That somebody is observing me.

The witching hour opaque and still

Paralysed by my own fright

Eyes straining in the dark reveal

A figure cloaked in pale moonlight.

Her face so sad, a young girl’s stare

Pierces my heart and far beyond

A ghost of whom she’s unaware

To her am I, and then she’s gone.