Introducing Kathleen Freeman
3.a.m
Angel of deliverance waits outside my bedroom window
The world hushes its long drawn breath for a while.
Somewhere far away tiny lizards dart beneath stones.
Thin streams hiccup gently to themselves.
An old owl shutters its amber eye sternly.
I am alone, as tight as bleached cotton
stretched across the glistening night sky.
At 3.a.m our time sir, I believe, is when
your specter returns, climbing over the strewn
broken packaging, that used to be my dreams.
Shadows finger themselves around floral wallpaper.
Monsters leap from polished wooden doors
hungry for the gnawed remains of my sleep.
Angel in beggar’s clothes slips away at dawn
to some washed continent I cannot even name.
Where blue-faced people hide themselves in forests.
Capturing the souls of children in dreamtime nets
Luring them far away to the steady beat of cricket
tails counting hypnotically in case they awake.
All poems copyright of Kathleen Freeman
Visit Kath At http://kathylambie.blog.com/
3.a.m
Angel of deliverance waits outside my bedroom window
The world hushes its long drawn breath for a while.
Somewhere far away tiny lizards dart beneath stones.
Thin streams hiccup gently to themselves.
An old owl shutters its amber eye sternly.
I am alone, as tight as bleached cotton
stretched across the glistening night sky.
At 3.a.m our time sir, I believe, is when
your specter returns, climbing over the strewn
broken packaging, that used to be my dreams.
Shadows finger themselves around floral wallpaper.
Monsters leap from polished wooden doors
hungry for the gnawed remains of my sleep.
Angel in beggar’s clothes slips away at dawn
to some washed continent I cannot even name.
Where blue-faced people hide themselves in forests.
Capturing the souls of children in dreamtime nets
Luring them far away to the steady beat of cricket
tails counting hypnotically in case they awake.
All poems copyright of Kathleen Freeman
Visit Kath At http://kathylambie.blog.com/
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