…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