…they are so fragile

In the star sprinkled sky
familiar things cast no shadows
through the weeping of the rain
the moon, framed by an empty window

fragrance drifting on the breeze
worn down hills, whitened by moonlight
flicker faintly in the gloom
a slow sobbing wind
a barely burning lamp

echoes of unseen footsteps
along a cracked autumn path
the trembling breath of time
shakes the leaves

I hear the distant pealing
of the old church-bell
the flame like you, has gone to rest
and tears, they fall like rain

I turn to the past, with more longing
than the blood already knows
such a silence lies between us
they are so fragile, the lies of the night

and I know, as darkness unfurls
in downward rivulets
that I have lost myself
© Ann Bagnall