Notes In The Margin

Faint Ghost of half-remembered dream

Of time and tide, not what they seem,

Leading down to water’s edge.

Promises of dawn, dissolving night

Faint blush on eastern brow in sight

Leading near horizon’s edge.

Gentle brush of silken hair

Soft whispers on the misty air

Leading souls to passion’s edge.

Mere sylphs of floating spectral lace,

Misty line of half-remembered face

Leading to creation’s edge.

Sparks struck bright to hungry tinder

Leap twig to branch with naught to hinder

Leading to the forest’s edge.

Ghosts of full-remembered dream

Of time and tide, more than they seem,

Leading from the water’s edge.

EDGE

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