The Runaway Dream (Poetry)

Most nights I have this
strange runaway dream —
an unknown landscape
a blue moonlit scene
a long empty road ...

And I’ve no idea
where I’m heading for
but something drives me
though my feet are sore
from miles of walking

The wind’s cold voices
chant a foreign name
that tongue familiar
haunting me in vain
I don’t remember

Trees are silhouettes
I’m aware of eyes
gathering owl-light
the cloud-scudding skies
and life left behind ...

Fancy invented
nocturnal fiction
curious unless
psychic prediction
trailers the picture