Coming Alive

5th April, '09

Drops of silver moonlight,
swishing-swashing in my brain,
heady winds in tall black trees,
dancing to a strange refrain.
Clothes hanging on the wash-line,
seem to take a life of their own,
whispering voices of spirits long gone,
sailing over grass and stone.
Leaves are fluttering in the wind,
the flowers send out a scent so sweet,
something is calling out to my soul,
and it answers to that faraway beat.
Shattering through my glass window,
lightened soul and spellbound mind,
I come alive to fly with them,
Leaving all of the world behind.