Rude Awakening by Neil Cladingboel

Coloured globes confront my eyes
Is this the vision of one who's died?
Confusion fills the spaces left behind
As I try to remember the date or time

Alien tendrils tickle my hands
While pulsating lights flicker then fade
Cast adrift in a galactic sea?
No, just fallen asleep under the Christmas tree.

Copyright © Neil C. Cladingboel 2004

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