Imagination or…

As I lie on the age old bed drowning in darkness

I feel I need to grasp a whole lot of the air.

Breeze is trespassing pushing the curtain

Bringing the yellowed halogened spring

Evening & splashing it on the chiaroscuro wall.

This is not the autumn I look for this’s ‘nother spring.

As I drifted into my own world created

By the errand thoughts & tiredness of the day

I can see you, my obscured unknown lady.

Are you an angel or the driftwood I need now?

Are you real or is it just my some made up

Imagination?

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