They fall on me as I sleep
Their faces born from memory
Climb out the encroaching darkness.
How many nights have I dreamt of them
Of the words I would say,
Yet I only say, "you should not be here."
But they never reply,
They are shrouded by silence.
Their eyes, they are alive though,
Moonlit inquests drawing the tide
Asking, pleading without words.
But they don't speak
So is it me that is asking
The cud of that question
Is it me that asks not to wake?