It’s all of a Piece
It’s as if I’ve been
here before
It’s all of a piece
The watcher and the
watched
Who is sleeping and
Who is watching?
Their heads so close
so their thoughts run
Together in a pool
Of reflective light
On whose surface
Marbling inks swirl
And curdle in
blooming paisley leaves of colour
Calling to mind old
books looked at in an antique bookshop on Woodhouse Lane
Who is dreaming whom?
Malchus my Angel
What lies trapped
beneath
The ice of my mind
What thoughts wait?
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