…is yours alone
Lora kindly gave me permission to use her art for this poem in 2014 when I first published this poem
There is a darkening
doubting sky
the clouds speak
a language of their own
like finely fashioned
twisted driftwood
in the weeping darkness
in the fading light
softly flowing
a fragrant mist of falling moonlight
like coloured silk on flagstones
spilling over faint tones of blue
a door opens to a stand of trees
the cool caress of a cautious wind
splintering the light
through the leaves
through the silhouettes
first the silence
then a passing thought
images of you
a recollection
slowly regained
by way of a silken thread
the unseen hand
that stirs the velvet darkness
a touch
that is at once both pain
and something soft
a deeper peace
than I have ever known
perhaps this will be the last time
we will breathe our dreams
into each other
for they are delicate
feather light and fragile
like the ever changing hues of heaven
an endless drifting horizon
veiled in shadows
I hold you in my thoughts
where the roses bloom
where the rain falls in a quiet forest
and as the night floods in
I stand in silence
letting it flow over me
the dream that you are
and with the breeze
I let it pass
for the night is yours
alone
© Ann Bagnall
