Falling Dreams

Falling Dreams

The dance of emptiness

Goes on and on

But at last

All is becoming clear

In darkness

It is most bright

There is a chill

That lingers in the air

A trembling prescience

Of different choices

Reach out your hand

Catch your falling dreams

Even if it cuts to the heart

Let them drop

Like blood on snow

Their ominous blossoms

Will spread across the surface

But they will be erased

The rain will wash them clear

No remnants will remain

Nor signs, of what once fell

And you can walk away

In silence

© Ann Bagnall 2012.


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