…inconsolable

Once again we stood on the edge of the painted world
where ochre fields met a scarlet sky
where memories whispered in the bare branches
and the seasons tested us both
even the leaves in the trees and the myriads of blossoms
struggled in the shifting terrain
flaunting their crimson colours daring the world to watch them burn
but fire is a transient state, extinguished by the rain
leaves and petals trembling, a prelude to the turning season
ultimately falling into the cold mists, destination, obliteration
our final moments, dancing in the dusk
now swimming in the indigo tides
our colours slowly shifting, running in shades of blue
blue, the colour of silence
our twilight hearts that once loved too hard and lost
but still have not forgotten
our colours running to mark the path
that in that other life we once painted with fire
the light is now dissolving at the edges
a lament for a love that slowly faded into the shadows
unable to hold its hue
and our sorrow, inconsolable
is now running blue
© Ann Bagnall