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42<br />
LUCENT DREAMING<br />
I’m convinced that<br />
faeries live here<br />
It is hidden ’twixt the feather-light<br />
Sprigs and deadly thin thorn bushes<br />
That drape around the pool, blinding<br />
One realm from another.<br />
The pool sits like a mirror<br />
But I don’t see myself peering<br />
Into the metallic basin<br />
Two steps beneath my feet because<br />
There only exist the trees.<br />
I hear the wind beyond the barbs<br />
At my back, beyond the entrance<br />
I stumbled upon but I feel<br />
No breeze between my fingertips<br />
In this timeless find of mine.<br />
The sun is broken by shards of<br />
Twigs and leafy limbs that arc above<br />
My head and descend in spiralled<br />
Tendrils that I can almost reach<br />
And twine around my wrists.<br />
Would they carry me to the dwelling<br />
Where fairies trap our tempted souls<br />
Just beyond the reach of lucidity<br />
Beneath the pool’s façade?<br />
by Poppy Jennings
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