Within these walls
solitude has become my sanctuary
the slow ache of undeniable loss
flows just beneath the surface

The cold touch of empty spaces
these blue rains of pain
unravelling thoughts
that fill me to overflowing

Spiralling again
into the depths of sorrow
the music of all that has been lost
playing quietly on endless repeat

I am the ballerina
on an ancient music box
spinning around
and around

To the tinkling sound
a parody of dance
my performance
a facade of grace

My grief hidden
in the shadows on my face

© Ann Bagnall

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