…there is an empty garden

With empty hands and empty heart
he sits alone with his thoughts
in quiet reflection of yesterday
now starved for colour and light
holding only the memories of her pale and haunting face
dreams are dust before the wind
held within the heart of stars
her blue eyes mirrored the deepest ocean
and in her mind a memory takes her back
a waltz across the boards
shadows dance about a darkened room
flowers blossom and leaves fall
a gleaming moon upon the pond
golden hues and deep green waters
groves in full white flower half hidden in the mist
then silence, nothing moves
sleep comes so slowly
the secrets of her soul slip away in the night
but the light still lingers in her eyes
there is a fragrance on the breeze
and in his dream
there is an empty garden
© Ann Bagnall