~Memory of a Dream~

There - in the distance - a white seagull flies.

Drifting on every crest of wind - rising, falling, rising, falling...

A reflection of light on a grey-white feather.

The breath of wind.

A distant memory of life.

There's a hollow sound filling this room, where the light barely reaches past the cold transparent window,

A thin line of light and warmth in an otherwise cold void, made by man and trapping them within.

The walls are a beige-grey, painted as if they knew no one would ever stare at them for to long.

The last room, before we move on.

I narrow my eyes as I try to keep the seagull in focus, but it flies farther away, transforming into a ray of white light in the pale sun.

I watch the wind blow on the trees... so slow. Blurs of colours and motions, like the antiqued haze of memory. Still. Each leaf moves not only in my eyes, but in my mind... feeling everyone with the cold seperation that comes of a life seen but not lived.

Standing while the sun sets...

The light drawing out of the room, so slowly...

I stand.

Red light cascades over the world...

The leaves of the tree blow a bit slower, a bit more sadly.

Darkness.

I turn and pick up my faded denim coat -

It's time to leave.