…upon my skin

The winds of change
echo through the trees
hearts carved
deep into the bark
their naked branches
trembling
slow dancing
to unheard melodies
wantonly reaching
for the emptiness

between whispers
and shifting shadows
in vain attempts
to grasp the distant stars
the moon discards
her fragile veils
into the sultry
silken night

memories clinging
like vines
I am free falling
like leaves in winter
darkness is calling
and I ache to embrace
the silence

but my hunger
erodes my convictions
as the river does
the stones
my sins now written
upon my skin
in places you cannot see
fading from sight
with the passing of time
but forever aching
in the hollow parts of me
© Ann Bagnall