Steps

Wind chimes tick off the hours

Melodic sounds wind me to sleep

With tentacles of passion flowers.

The blue nigellas, ladies-in-the-mist,

veil filigree while swaying grasses weep -

Some dancers in my eyes...

I seek to lead but I am caught.

I fall headlong into a stride

with spinful, swaying branches

of the black locust tree.

Nothing to see

but hollow tunnels harmonise

and find 

long and forgotten fairy strings

that wove and span 

where time began 

and rise -

to reach and colonise 

my breathless mind.