…by the moon

Loss begins as a sad melody and softens as she lingers
but her songs do not belong to me
in her flooding tides they rise upon the waves of an ancient wind
the darkness is tangled in her hair, her wayward beauty
shames the roses as she revels in the purpled night
swirling in the silver shadows, discarded by the moon
she catches my tears like pearls
and they adorn her pale white throat
as she takes her throne in her elysian airs
the day reaches out with trembling hands
seeking permission to rise once more the morning sun is hesitant
as her blood stains the first of the pale morning sky
and loss watches in the night still filling her eyes
like oceans that desire the lightless depths
and shun the warmth of the sun
the dawning breathes her gilded breath
across the slumbering sorrowful domain
touching all with the gentle strokes of hope
loss bows her head in acknowledgement
but she does not surrender
still whispering her sultry songs
she dances in the fog swirling around my heart
casting the spells that keep me bound
I knew that she would cleave to me
like all the things that I try not to remember
her shadows lengthen and circle me
darkness falls once more upon my soul
the velvet night brushes against my skin
a touch that is intimate yet somehow distant
the moon spins silver threads across the darkness
and as if to lift my heart, the stars have gathered
like fields of flowers across the black sky
where loss now lingers in her perfumed breeze
weaving her illusions and creating beauty from pain
my memories still clinging like vines to a tree
the tendrils of loss, her endless, aching refrain
but her songs do not belong to me
© Ann Bagnall