Phantoms – Colin Whyles

Submitted by Colin Whyles on Tue, 26/02/2013 - 20:30

Phantoms

The dreams are beginning again;
I can feel them
slipping their fingers
through my hair,
idly teasing my locks
with shadows.

They are dreams,
but they are phantoms,
leaving no trace.

They will call again;
pressing deeper,
scratching me awake
to jot down their forms;
leaving just the slightest trace,
their distant laughter echoing.

They are dreams,
but they are phantoms,
leaving but hollows.

They are the tick of a clock;
an unseen hint
of pendulous time,
not the clock or the time;
its gasp, its breath,
unintended, undesigned.

They are dreams,
but they are phantoms;
this dream, this phantom.

Copyright © 2013 Colin Whyles

Read Where
Poetry Aloud, Benson Blakes, Bury St Edmunds