The seasons of my heart

Like seeds

Scattered into the void

Until wild weeds grow

The bittersweet taste of emptiness

From the withered vine

A new sadness flows

Night slowly intrudes

A touch of chill

My heart can no longer remember

Love neither sleeps

Nor slumbers

Winter settles stone still

Yet as long as the winds will sing

I shall hear you

Subtle sorcery

A spell so easily cast

And my heart is broken

Over and over

© Ann Bagnall