in the centre of a world
defined by mist and imagination,
I hear the gentle swish of waves
long abandoned by a distant wind.
and then ghosts glide by.
They are at first formless sound
then for a moment gray, almost solid.
little time remains before
the sun evaporates this veil
and forces my smile into place.
for this early morning stroll
I will the walls about my back,
stand toward the soft slack sea
and listen for that distant wind.