…unravelled

Do you know the touch of my words?
thoughts within thoughts, the ghosts of sorrows past
splinters of my life, everything falling into place
imagination and reality, precise with imperfection
wild and untethered, carelessly tossed to make a ripple
or each thread perfectly woven
they are the abstract shadows behind the flow of imagination
behind the mirror’s mirror, reflecting the world in fractured parts
a spectrum of feelings revealed, for some things will never rest
the silence coming unraveled, endless poems wait to be written
they bloom and send forth blossoms
blood red poppies on a field of night
© Ann Bagnall
2014