Sleepers
Where sleepers dwell
the heart be still
glass feet
seek to tread
the deadliest path
of all
unclutter these moments
sinking beneath
only seeking to
pierce the bubble
watch it rise into
the bluest sky
I wonder why
yellow buttercups torn
upon a painted red door
fresh rain splattered
delicate petals scattered
ghostly seahorses pump air
as they cut through
distant waves
listen to them through
the shapely curve of
a salmon-coloured shell
damp sand sticks
as the moon dips
tracing starlit fingers
to chase away the breeze
now all clouds are lost
in a spraying dance of light
playing across the skies
chance fulfilled
in blissful sleep
copyright Vickie Johnstone
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