Night People

They come in the night,

Frozen in my dreams.

Memories distorted

As they melt into visions

Of a time lost,

And then found again.

The boy and his horse

A woman in brown;

Lost in a maze

Of crumbling houses.

Dark waters bursting,

Water twisting and winding

Through narrow streets.

In my dreams the night people come.

©Jo Anne

October 20, 2020

Published by creoleana

Currently as Associate Professor of English Emerita my focus remains committed to scholarship within a multimodal / multicultural context. My ongoing research projects are The Virtual Caribbean Library and the Lost Voices, Forgotten Voyages projects; both centered on digital representations of the Caribbean within a digital humanities context. View all posts by creoleana