The Dust Of All My Days

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

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