She travels back in time

In her mind

Matters of the heart

Hidden in the shadows

Of her soul

The endless tides of time

Weather away

At her dreams

His face is near

Yet his voice is far

Her memories

Losing their shape

She holds his gaze

Lest he should fade

And strains to hear

The passing wind

That carries his whispers

Like a serenade

As her dance

Draws to an end

And the night

Slowly overwhelms the day

Her memories

Like fallen tears

Are slowly

Washed away

© Ann Bagnall 2014. 


3 thoughts on “Serenade

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