…of dreams

In the unquiet night
on the margin of dreams
the moon comes to me
wrapped in her cloak of darkness

as the hours flow softly she speaks
not in words but in silence
like tears falling into a river
or time drifting slowly away

she is haunted by memories
and broken with sadness
her melancholy song
now etched in my heart

a sorrowful melody
her secrets revealed
she sighs wistfully
turning to the waiting night

retreating into echoes
and then nothing
but the silence
© Ann Bagnall