My fading dreams still whispering
a wistful haunting melody
taunting me like shifting shadows
falling softly in perfumed trails
I reach out to catch them
but they cut me to my core
blossoming, not into life
but into their inevitable demise
blooming like blood upon the snow
only to be obscured by the next fall
and inevitably carried away
in the flow of the thaw
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 