Dawn Treader

Waking Silence

I wonder did you stir at six to hear the morning mist

Slip silently from the slumbering streets?

Or if you heard the noiseless spreading of the Swallow’s wings

Tumbling from the icy wire in search of warmer air?

I heard you as you tiptoed through my shivering dreams

In ghost-like slippers floating;

And like the mist's cool residue and Swallow’s after-breeze,

You brushed me as you passed

© David McLoughlin 2009