…is drifting

Perfume is drifting, the dreamscape is strangely white
yet the breeze is warm and the dissonance unnerves me
it carries whispers of songs from an unseen world
water is flowing, although I know not from where
its music lingers, a symphony of the unknown, soft and eternal
this place, it feels vast, an expanse without borders
and an absence of sky where the heavens have fallen
dissolving into the light
my skirt trailing wet, smooth pebbles beneath my feet
each step feels weightless and time is fleeting, a fragile illusion
and there are flowers, soft, floating all around me
unanchored and so alive, their petals trembling
fragrance drifting on the gentle breeze
colours both pale and vivid, drifting, just like me
slowly the mist is rising, cloaking the edges of sight
gently encircling me
softly I call into the emptiness
but my voice fades into the dark beyond
forever lost in the vast void, I fear the silence
and even my own echoes set my heart a ‘trembling
the breeze is now shifting
carrying images and sounds that I have never known
yet they feel so familiar, memories still unformed
the water deepens, cool against my skin
drawing me forward to an unseen destination
hidden within the mist
again, I am surrounded by fields of flowers
their beauty indescribable, each bloom softly painted
touched with a gentle light, a promise of something more
is this place just a dream?
or a memory reborn?
the lines between reality and imagination, now blurring, fading
and finally I am adrift, weightless
just a shadow amongst the waves
© Ann Bagnall