S.C. Flynn

One moment before waking, it all made perfect sense,

but if there’s no return from where they’ve gone –

those cuttlefish dreams of rippling colours

that flashed by spontaneously, waving

hypnotising tentacles of hope –

I know that others will soon wash over me,

calming the billions of agitated grains

that choke my mind with ever-shifting sand:

soothing jellyfish visions floating past,

strange and charming as midnight seahorses,

escorting me back to the place I lost.

Published in Drawn to the Light.

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