Glass dreams

I wanted to say more than just words
when I came to see the ghosts of me
surrounded by old friends
who gathered words too
Picking odd flowers
branches broken by storms
making them into pictures
paintings and dreams.
My toungue sticks lightly
while words get tangled
then slip and root
between and below my teeth.
Old friends
saturated dreams of lost days
somewhere back there.
I turn the pages
ever so slowly
I can still feel them
word by word
soul by soul
still here.
They are the ghosts
of a life time ago
just like me.

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- - you've captured an atmosphere quite well
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definitely; interesting imagery of constraints
:)
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thankyou.
W.