Pinning Dreams (Poetry)

They slink away at dawn — furtive
coat tails rippling to entice
the mind to try and follow where they go
down tunnels, burrowing like moles
sleek in their dark underworld of abstracts —
half-sounds and impressions
the ghosts of smells long-vanished
and time streams unmeasured.

All shadows and mocking voices
teasing, goading at the grey edge
of memory, fingers picking where it frays
to nothingness, and shivers chill
and sweat prickles at the thought
old fears will find us crouching
in some cave, black with charcoal
madly drawing dreams upon the wall.