In this desolate place
where the fragments
of moments
circle restlessly in the dark
the seasons come and go
no longer in endless
repetition
but in random chaos
a rearranging
of nature’s tapestry
days and nights intertwined
at times there are blossoms
and the warmth of the sun
or autumn leaves
fall mournfully
and winter nights
are cloaked in ice
they no longer cycle in their time
but still I return here often
again and again and again
hoping that the restless winds
will let me hear you
whisper my name
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 