…for whom it tolls I do not know

The bell tolls, it seems far away, sombre and slow
for whom it tolls, I do not know
I hear the whispers of tortured souls drifting upon a cold wind
birds flying in ever declining circles
their mournful cries sounding out into the emptiness
echoing gently back to me
the once staccato beat, fading away into the distance
my heart keeps time with the constant bell
now sounding out in long softened notes
mists drift across the surface of the still lake
shadows pass over me, swirling ghostly and silent
and I feel them like a whisper upon my skin
or cold wind across the surface of my grave
the birds now murmuring in muted tones as they carry me away
their wings beating in time to the gentle song
of my now fallen heart
the bell tolls once more, it no longer seems so far away
sombre and slow, for whom it tolls, I now know
© Ann Bagnall