…not a gambler

The shadows of the wind
fall gently upon me
unseen and silent
their caress is gentle
featherlight and ethereal

their gentle brushstrokes
slowly painting me anew
although distant
their art is intimate
for it is not creating
but renovating

restoring colours and images
that have been obscured
with the passing of time
contrasting the darkness
that has filled the frame

the darkness
that has overcome the light
and prevented the flowers
from blooming
gifting a moment of connection
the healing power of touch

that speaks louder than words
louder than promises
or hopes or dreams
and that in a mere second
breaks the cycle of sorrow
of loneliness

opening a window to the sky
and the soft clouds
and the sun and the moon
and the wind itself
to oceans and rivers
and leaves in the trees

to petals blooming
and birds and butterflies
to snowflakes and shadows
and the creatures of the night
reminding me that life
is always a balance
of the darkness and the light

and that darkness cradles
every fledgling dream
and the light, delicate
in its blossoming
will always rise
with quiet whispers
of possibility

but dreams
are merely dreams
and whispers
whisper for a reason
so promises
and possibilities
can never heal
my broken heart
for I am rambler
not a gambler
gone long before
the cards are down
© Ann Bagnall