…by a butterfly’s wing
In the inward mirror
I enter the dream
from shore to shore
in the farthest reaches
everywhere reveals
the colours of spring
except the wind
which is beautiful
in its dark, winter tones
from room to room
in the vastness
of this place
I hear a whispering
but the words
they fall away
into the silence
like a breeze raised
by a butterfly’s wing
it is familiar
the path of this dream
falling leaves
descend like tears
into the quiet pond
and in the distance
I hear the footsteps
falling into beyond
between the light
and the shade
between each breath
I recall it, recall
that this is a journey
that never ends
in the dream I reach for it
the candle flickers in the mirror
upon the canvas of my soul
and after all
only the broken glass alone
remains
© Ann Bagnall
2014
