…over and over
What is it that pulls me back?
I am never sure
there no colours
to stir the senses
just pain
in all its varied hues
I am suspended in time
flowing aimless
upon the swell of the sea
again and again
your eyes
they always persuade me
losing myself
over and over
I feel the sharp edge
of memories
a finespun silken rigging
which trembles with the thunder
that eternally rolls
across the field of dreams
assailed by doubts
in the face of strong winds
of indecision
responding
to some inner voice
finally
and reluctantly
I once again
turn to go
© Ann Bagnall 2013.
