A slender blot of light slipped
on your face and you woke up,
trying to recall a voice. The hands
are looking now for a thin cloth,
lips are wavering in the night.

Things appear unclear, but they say
something that matters
about the eye draught laid on the floor.

Little wonder you cannot muster up
your strength before an effigy
that hangs up in front of you, half in shadow.
You are just reaching out
for a familiar body, and this
gives your thought some relief.

A mere touch suffices to find
the by-way to the core of a long tale.