to wake, and still too late to go back to sleep.
I must go out through greenery that's crammed
with memories, that follow me with their eyes.
They are not visible, wholly dissolve
into background, perfect chameleons.
They are so close that I can hear them breathe
although the singing of birds is deafening.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
