Looking out wistfully,
forbidding the darkness to preclude
hearing the strings not just of heart
the ensemble lifting us gently like a leaf on a breeze
from time to time a rustle
no not from the trees
a rustle of memories
that rise and fall like fire flies
Soaring and drifting
from one scene to another
and so again, and so again
I dream
Aindre Reece-Sheerin