Voices Off (Poetry)

After years of absence, the dear old faces blur
but their voices still ring true —
they gather round and gossip in my ear
in that moment strung, unmeasured, inbetween
sleeping and returning to the light.

Odd conversations flow — nonsensical —
the briefest snatch of something half-recalled
that somehow comforts —
makes the dawn feel glad
we’re not abandoned wholly to this world...

So many gone — and I’m left in the dark
waiting for a time I know will come
while someone chides and nags me to press on
with pointless things — routine the diary made
observances I cling to for some shape...

Now the outline of my life lacks a firm edge —
but wavers, indistinct, as focus dims
and sleep is welcoming the night’s long play
all innovation — but I recognise
those voices off as clear as yesterday.