…are the hardest of things

Rain, finding my face
steady and without sound
I remember all those moments
they have passed me now

memories are the hardest of things
their whispers in the darkness
almost as unbearable
as the hush of years

I must endure these feelings
and the rain falls, so gently
days from your voice
years from your sighs

the only sound
the other side of sorrow
all returns to silence, and shadow
never to be spoken, out loud
© Ann Bagnall 2013