The winter moon, leaves a frosted path,
through the woven web of memories
you kissed me just one last time
then the snow fell silently down
my longing for you
the wind has lent it wings
petals fall and scatter on the ground
the snow drifts against the stone wall
the birds they sing on to the listening skies
the past is dissolving
and I surrender to the moment,
like a raindrop returned to the stream
© Ann Bagnall

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