Love has its’ seasons and we are now deep in our winter
brittle branches on skeletal trees, reaching out with empty hands
the weight of falling still lingers, a silent, delicate ache
tears still falling unrestrained, each another baptism
a pause between breaths, memories linger upon the wind
for mere moments, only to vanish unseen
yet in the absence of reason, I still reach for you
just as a tree still reaches, to capture its last falling leaf
love quietly endures, long after the blooming
still holding on to hope, even when all else has fallen
when the hush of reality settles, our distant hearts still beating
keeping time with each other, a concurrence of souls
love is ever patient, a perfect storm in waiting
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 