…interludes of rapture

The sand slips through the hourglass once again
rushing through the night the wind ripples
and its song rises until it loses itself in the void
rose petals fall bleeding upon the pristine snow
on the island of my heart around whose shores
the searching waters roam
it seems that it recalls in its aching ebb and flow
interludes of rapture
those forbidden moments and passions
that time could never render thin
these thoughts pulling me deeper into myself
piecing together our history in a place beyond all words
I paint it with colours, gild it with gold
it is only here that I can I freely reach you
on the margin of dreams, here, where all past secrets
will in time come tumbling into light
as the jasmine scented breath of spring
petals blush and whisper, softly sighing as they drift away
leaves of fall feathered with flames, burn with desire
throwing themselves, quivering, upon the wind
as my soul aches to be free
like a boat untethered and drifting
upon a beautiful sea
© Ann Bagnall
2014