The Night

…is yours alone

Image: Moonlit Tree by Lora Marsh.
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

© Ann Bagnall

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