100-word proem from Worcestershire

I put out a call for prose poems of exactly 100 words here. Beatrice's intriguing contribution, with her bardic tone at the end, is up; here is Miriam's poignant offering.

I like the way the end line contains and completes the opening.

~~~

My dreams are missing and I wonder why I can’t reach them; as if the sea that laps my liminal shores is trapped.

Miles of sand, the sea a thin grey line, too far away and stilled. And so, one evening, I’m drawn to the window, looking for something to feed my sleep.

Or is it the light which catches my eye? Sun has thrown a lens of burnt orange over the land. Had thrown, now faded, sunk by the crenellated battle-ship cloud out in the northern sky.

A window opens on my dreamworld; let it wake me tonight. 

~~~

© Miriam Hancock