…on the boards

A creaking floor
a footprint in the dust
a fragile image
cast through lingering light
a reflection of someone
long since departed

outside the ancient window
a grey mist predicts the rain
and in my heart
I am weeping just the same
a memory shifts
in the manner of a dream

I take my comfort
that with the coming of the night
this will pass from me
as the darkness flows in
and swallows the remembrance
like it does the shadows, on the boards
© Ann Bagnall
2014