…upon the gentle breeze

The blossoms are falling
their whispers and sighs, like quiet breathing
once again I number the days and the endless nights
as the seasons shift like clockwork
everything has its time
I think of fallen flowers that carpet the earth
fragile and fragrant
the embodiment of sweet slumbering dreams
still destined for destruction
soon just echoes upon the gentle breeze
I think of death, where the darkness devours all all but the bones
buried in the shadows, fading and crumbling to dust
I think of heavens’ silver
stars spilled like tears across the vast cathedral of night
I think of drowning in an ocean of sorrow
drifting listless in the ebb
my heart trembles
and just as the petals are unable to resist the call of the seasons
I think suddenly of you
of cliffs and crumbled stones and of bended knee
and the cold indifference of the sea
and then again, of grief and memories
© Ann Bagnall