The tail end

Mostly I wake unsettled,
holding the tail end of a dream,
a few images crisp
but only for seconds before fading,
like an old flash bulb, leaving
just a feeling of having held something

My vision is spotty at best anyway
so whether I’ve got a kite at the middle
or the end of the line, I’m still looking up
as it floats further away

There is flight and fog,
music with no words,
and a sense of missing a step
as I navigate clouds
with no inner compass