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.