He Was The Storm


I was the echo of silence

Memories drift
soft and whispering
like the fragrant mists
of lost dreams
endlessly circling
in the emptiness

They gather and twirl
to music I cannot hear
in faraway gardens
filled with flowers
whose ghostly faces
I cannot see

He stirred the oceans
and painted the moon
he was the storm
and the soft light of dawn
our song forever etched
upon the canvas of my soul

I was drowning in the waves
and alone under the stars
I was the echo of silence
and the long hours of night
lost in the haunting melody
that broke my fragile heart

Now in the dark mirror
I face my hungry shadows
the embers burning in the darkness
now slowly extinguished
by the cold dew of reality

© Ann Bagnall

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