A melancholy grey winter day
naked trees creaking like bones as they bend
I stand still and alone with no shape and no form
as my old ghosts and my old wounds
are slowly drifting by
cloud banks roam the heavy sky
and ice rules the wind
the day and I both long to break free
to escape our misery
but between the cracks
time slips slowly away
darkness is falling
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 