Night Travel
What is that I grasp, I miss
When half awake or half asleep I feel such deep, deep longing
Knowing only the rich sadness
The ache
I glimpse a red checkered skirt
A fragment of fabric at the corner of my consciousness
the swish
I cry
Not for no reason
But for a reason beyond knowing
I know that place only by partly leaving this
But dare not go too far
For then I lose it all to sleep
Or to sudden awakeness
But still the scene is there
I will only ever glimpse it fleetingly
By myself, alone
At night
