…never stops turning
Age old kisses
of the sea upon stones
each ripple
sweeping me back in time
windless
yet there is still music
in the leaves
colour roaming
in lazy silent winds
encircled
by creeping shadows
I find myself whispering
into the past
beckoning memories
I thought long lost
fleeting glimpses
caught in an hourglass
brief recollections
almost intangible
incomplete
insubstantial
unrelenting
they circle in my mind
like moths to a flame
the hourglass
never stops turning
over
and over
and over
my heart
is forever yearning
yearning for something
I cannot quite grasp
those grains of sand
keep slipping away
in the moment
I fear that all is lost
that only shadows
and echoes remain
but time is not linear
but circular
endlessly repeating
in a never-ending cycle
I own all the memories
I own all the sand
in these fleeting moments
lie my legacy
for I am both sculptor and clay
and I will not let the past
define me
©Ann Bagnall
