The Bones Of Memories

…and I, we cannot rest

Image courtesy of Adobe Stock

I am floating in dreams
that flow like rivers
rivers that are ours alone
quietly drifting
through mist and fog
far from the time and place
of our parting

I hear the toll of the bell
calling me back
as always, I resist
for this place is my home
but the bell is insistent
and I awaken
confused and alone
the shredded remnants
of memories
still coursing through my veins

I strive to bury the painful remains
like ancient dusty bones
I hide them somewhere deep
to keep them safe
where my eyes
cannot alight with ease
but still, they surface
as if from desert sands
over and over
prevailing winds return them to me

so, the bones of memories and I
we cannot rest
but instead
we toss and turn
and ever wrap ourselves
with heavy sighs

© Ann Bagnall

** A poem from my book ‘Time Is Not Just Clocks or Ticks and Tocks’ published on Amazon**

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