I have weathered many winters
the oldest tree in the field still standing
against the harsh winds
much is lost in the erosion of ages
and the endless cycles of time
I know not how
I am standing here
but I have learned the art
of being alone
embracing the reverence
of solitude
my lingering ghosts
my only companions
even my own voice
has now fallen to silence
solitude is not an unfilled void
but a vessel filled with memories
still waiting to be found
just as the stars in the night
carry their secrets in silence
forever aching to be revealed
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 