…of unfurling

In her loneliness
she is perceived
as ethereal and distant

yet the hours of solitude
her unspeakable burden
weigh heavily
upon her fragile frame

and her face, ghostly
a tracery of fine lines
aches for colour

anchored in the cold earth
she dreams of unfurling
out of the shadows
and into the light

as season after season
her petals open
into nothing but emptiness

the darkness
ever clawing at her back
the echoes of wishes
dying in the void

her dreams unfulfilled
her stark pale face
still haunts the night

and the wind
carries her perfume
to all the places
that she will never see
© Ann Bagnall