…will still return to thee

The last fires of the day
are sinking into the embrace of the horizon
in which my souls’ reflection plays

winds sweep by with mournful sighs
unquiet leaves fluttering, flightless and falling
from a tree whose arms are now empty

dying stars, flames extinguished
as the tide is descending
against the moons’ pull

the fates may take you far away
but as the pebbles
washed to the sea

you will once again, return to me
just as my restless soul
will still return to thee
© Ann Bagnall
2013.