‘I had
begun to wonder if I moved from dream to dream.
Was reality
only what I made of it?’
– Michael Moorcock
(1974)
Silver
fishes
And copper
kisses
Splashing
in a pool of green
Passing
through from dream to dream
Lay your
head down, little one
Listen to
your mother’s song
Close your
eyes now, precious child
Go to
sleep, be at peace
Stolen
wishes
Like broken
dishes
Mended for
a king and queen
Fragile
china made to gleam.
© Martin Slidel 2018 (1982)
Comments
Post a Comment