Beyond The Glass
In the darkness
Beyond the glass
White
With the sound of moonlight
The water’s face
Is shimmering smooth
Creeping vine
And climbing roses
In the garden of memory
All the objects of the senses
Interact and yet do not
The shadows
Are but passing thoughts
The presence
Of imagined dreams
Confided only
In the quiet evening air
It is but a moment
Through closed eyes
Lingering
In the melodies
Of a sad song
A handful of sand
A handful of stars
Whispering
An unbreakable promise
Where transience
Speaks of one thing
While revealing another
© Ann Bagnall 2015.
