…faceless pages, of my poetry

Friendless by choice
I turn to my muses for inspiration
for friendships must be nurtured
and long absences are never understood
but in the creative corners of my soul
where my muses roam wild and free
softly painted in all the colours of my poetry, time stands still
there are no expectations, no obligations no judgement rendered
here is where I love to linger
conversing with words and drowning in imagery
feeling the emotions slowly seeping under my skin
some are cold and distant
and feel heavy in my heart, like winter
others are warm and light, like a spring sunrise
some burning out their time like summer
but for me it is the call of autumn that always breaks my heart
the sorrow of the trees and the demise of their leaves
an ever constant reminder of the fragility of a life
that a life can be taken in a moment
that there is no timeline for death’s arrival
unlike the seasons , death is random in both time and targeting
a light can be extinguished in mere seconds
faster than a candle in a cold breeze
death deals its hand with deftly skill without remorse or regret
and my poor heart can no longer bear the tangible pain
the knife that stabs deeper and deeper with every loss
so I turn to the friendless, faceless pages, of my poetry
and day after day I slowly drown in its therapy
© Ann Bagnall