…weeps for the fallen

Raindrops tapping a melody
loud, as if falling on stone steps
slowly becoming a hazy drizzle
gently veiling weeping trees

I stand alone in the mist
as it circles me in silence
a form that has no form
that eerie aspect of rain

the harsher elements
gently smoothed away
as everything gives way
to to its cold caress

I hear the sound of sobbing
rain driven by the wind
in all of this vast expanse
not one unclouded tree

drenched and drowning
in the recent falls
they all stand shivering
in abject desolation

the moonlight
reflects in the water
painting its gentle art
bleeding into the dark

a shroud wraps the world
in cold silk and shades of grey
mourning colours
and the sky weeps for the fallen
© Ann Bagnall
2014