Periphary

Shapes dance,

In the corners of my eyes. 

A cavorting demon,

Made of shadow.

I move,

To try to see its face.

It moves with me,

Never captured.

Eyes closed,

Sleep gives me short respite.

But in my dreams, they are,

Made of light.

I try,

To ignore their playful gait.

Focus ahead always,

Looking straight.

But soon,

When the night hails the moon.

Harlequin devils,

Fill my room.

Really,

They are no fun to have around.

But at least they,

Make no sound.

© M.H.