In the winter of my mind
every road leads to nowhere
buried beneath drifts of doubt
my footsteps vanish behind me
erased by the restless wind
as if I was never here at all
I carve words into the frost
leaving traces of my longing
that no one will ever see
each fragile letter gently etched
into the fleeting ice
slowly melting away
trickling into rivers to nowhere
perhaps I write for no one
perhaps I write for myself
perhaps I write so I will remember
the songs of our hearts
that keep me close to you
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 