Borders
Without time
Thinly veiled
A dreaming line
The footfall
When alone
Spirits
Who share the zone.
The doorhandle
Which often moves
The creaking floorboard
The silent moon
Its prying eye
Its rounded face
That creeps into
The sleeping place.
The knock upon
A distant door
From the past
It is no more
Locked forever
Far away
Within that border
Kept at bay.