I am the sorrow, upon the breeze of memories
Beneath the softly blooming cherry trees
I am the wild mist, circling a darkening sea
Through the endless weeping of the rain
I am the soul of the nightingale
Who ever sings in solitude against the night
I am the tendrils of all my dreams
Forever drifting on the river of time
I am the silent reflections of the moon
Etched upon the silvery snow
I am the ancient oceans
Ebbing out into the black tide of loss
I am the night stars
Sunk in deep forgotten pools
I am the eagle
Soaring high upon the wind
I am the whispering grasses
Who hold all secrets and desires
I am the dust of all my days
Adrift in evanescent hues
I am gold and silver, blue and green
As the leaves falling, on sheer shafts of sunlight
I am the blood red morning
That fades too early like the rose
I am time itself, gently unfolding
To lie at last, in sweet repose
© Ann Bagnall
“…breeze of memories…”. I love this. Beautiful
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