My heart holds up a mirror
to the rising moon
melancholy drips
drip after desolate drip
into the depths of the glass
and the moonlight fractures
as the night flowers open
their shadows shifting
across the cold surface
from inside the mirror
I hear the sad songs
of departing souls
echoing back to me
light drifting into darkness
darkness drifting into light
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 