…my heart

How that patch of sky changes in the wind
I hear a shrill wind screaming, patterns flow from thin air
then a whisper in the wind, the whisper is persistent
memories wash ashore
a hidden tide relentlessly rolling in
and it falls heavily upon me
as if I were a leaf upon a river, perpetually in motion
having let go of the known path and the familiar shore
I am buffeted by the rapids
struggling against the winds of time
the river will run and I am caught on a wave of destiny
only following my heart
to sink in fathoms, as gentle as they are deep
© Ann Bagnall
2013