…keep rolling by

Through my half open window, I catch the last of the light
the day is gently dying, like the blossoms of spring
that once thrived in the earthy scent of rain
kissed softly by the sun’s warming rays
now languishing as the seasons turn once again
the night swoops in like a dark dragon on a cold wind
rushing down from lonely hills and the pale moon spills its silver
throwing shadows like pools of iridescent mercurial glass
beneath its frozen gaze
and like the fluttering pages of my open book
gently teased by the breath of autumn
the years keep rolling by
and dreams are fading like ribbons of clouds
torn asunder in ever shifting skies
© Ann Bagnall