He shadows me when the sun filters through the clouds,
******* my steps and treading on my heels,
dragging at my leaden-limbs, wearying and bothersome,
though only ever at the edge of being noticed.
He reaches into my head and stirs up my thoughts like tea,
fogging up my mind and my sight.

At night, though, he leads me easily to bed,
and this time I am the one following,
and this time he teases, hovering only at the edge of awareness.
He who chased me so ruthlessly through the sunlight,
now watches silently as I struggle to find him under the moon.
Though, in all honesty, sleep has always been a scornful lover.

h.f.m.

Today the magpie cried 'salvation'
As I woke to tangled sheets
Binding bare, shaking legs.
My bed released me hesitantly,
Reluctant to entrust me to the day's devices.
Stormclouds buzz behind grey eyes
That vacantly watch steam rise in wisps
From a cup clutched in trembling hands.
Marshal the troupes,
Pen, paper, caffeine fix in hand,
An orderly retreat into the inner sanctum.
Today the magpie cried in dawn light.
I rolled over and went back to sleep.

h.f.m.

I keep seeing echoes of my lost friends
In new faces, in strangers' fair eyes;
A tilt of the head and soft laughter lends
Particular cadence to mem'ries cries.
A melancholy stalks into my chest
And I wonder what this feeling might mean
Since 'tis not sent by my dear friends who rest.
I'm missing someone I've not even seen.
From the future or from another life?
Are they friend, foe, or on the grey border?
My doubting brings me unnecessary strife.
Maybe I'll find out when I am older.
Though eyes of strangers and some sort of kin...
Gaze turned to my soul and looks sharp within.

h.f.m.

An endless library the mind might be,
Limetless knowledge well may it posses,
Not so a place of such tranquility,
Never even once a place of true rest.
A nest of demons reside in the stacks,
Sharpening their claws on the wooden shelves,
Skill'd in subterfuge, with ease hide their tracks
Below consciousness, where surface thought delves.
Tattered pages flutter through quiet aisles,
Air pregnant with waiting and dark intent,
Then sudden hostility and sharp smiles
Where wishes and hopefullness make no dent.
I am lost in the halls of my own mind
And don't want to know what's here to find.

h.f.m.

Though inexperienc'd I am, I think,
From what mine own ears have heard oft' express'd,
Love, an o'erwrought and tempestuous drink,
Fallen in and out of leaves one sore stress'd.
Like looking upon the bright, burning sun,
Such a beauty that leaves one blind,
Love brings sweet pain that cannot be undone,
And leaving one to stumble, left behind.
Call me cynic if my words offend thee,
Call me a villain, destroyer of dreams,
But do you not wish to roam, to be free?
I do not wish to be bound, by no means.
Though if my mind were so soften'd to love
'Twould be by someone I've not yet heard of.

h.f.m.