…over and over

What is it that pulls me back?
I am never sure
there no colours to stir the senses
just the pain in all its varied hues
I am suspended in time
flowing aimless upon the swell of the sea
again and again
your eyes, they always persuade me
losing myself over and over
I feel the sharp edge of memories
a finespun silken rigging
which trembles with the thunder
that eternally rolls across the field of dreams
assailed by doubts
in the face of the strong winds of indecision
responding to some inner voice
finally and reluctantly
I once again, turn to go
© Ann Bagnall
2013