Annie's Poetry

Midnight
her dark veils
fall across the land
embroidered
with jewelled threads
a liquid moon
returning gold from silver
shimmering
smoothly set
this white twilight flows
forever twisting
kind winds
silently weaving
the dream is distant
there is a strangeness
in the shading
and as I watch
it is fading
slowly
like an echo
at the edges

© Ann Bagnall