In my imagination
with apologies, (but no royalties), to Kylie.
Carpets on the ceiling,
door cut in the floor,
curtains drifting up - not down,
a chest without a drawer.
Light dancing through a window
catching dust motes in the air,
a vase - misplaced and all alone
as though half of a pair.
Such things as these are creatures
of moonlit happenstance,
safe hid through all the hours of day,
not seen by mortal glance ;
but rather by illusion,
(or allusion if you care),
drawn by the pen of twilight dreams
and neither here nor there.
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