There is a corridor beneath sleep
that opens only for me
where fog swirls
and time does not exist
a staircase spirals
down from the moon
slowly I descend
each step evokes a memory
I hear your voice calling to me
beckoning me back
to the pathways of the past
a door appears and disappears
secrets whispered into melting clocks
on windowpanes of water
I pass an empty mirror
in a room filled with echoes
that never belonged to me
still I weep, to hear your heartbeat
for here are no endings here
only fragile thresholds
the slow unravelling of my dreams
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 