Timber Trestles

Numb, so numb, I dream again. 

Can't remember the last time, I remembered when 

Her tears dried out cries 

Smeared in the morning sun, 

Burning bridges snuffed-out sides 

Ember trestles of timber ruined. 

Lying awake I close my eyes, drifting off to space 

Painting a world that has better pictures than the ones here on display. 

With draining eyes and an old oak brush 

I push a smudge to raise a stroke, 

A blotting damage to this old image I watch my chaos flow.