…in the dream

It is cold in the dream
there is a fine mist of rain, perhaps it is fog
but damply it settles and softly it falls on me
I cannot tell if it is night or day
all the colours have faded, leaving just shades of grey
I feel lost and alone, I think I am searching
this place seems familiar, the house it is mine
or mayhap, it is me, me that is owned by this place by the sea
room after room, with my hands I trace history
they are crowded with memories yet empty of me
it is cold in the dream or so it appears
waves all around, they surge at the windows
as I walk through this place, it dawns on me late
that the walls are all glass and the house stretches out like a pier
room after room, into the distance, into to sea
and the waves and the rain, close softly around me
© Ann Bagnall