…now calling softly to me

Reverberating in the halls of heaven
and in the depths of my broken soul
the nightingale’s song pays sad reverence to my melancholy heart
echoes of my pain drift slowly down from the moon
like petals strewn upon a gentle sea
their fragrance flows soft and free
veils fallen and vows broken
dark pools of violets bloom unseen in the aching void
between you and me
embracing the fall and the nightingale’s sweet call
emptiness descends on sorrow’s wings and fills my vacant spaces
releasing my memories into the roaring oceans of despair
I see the ink, slowly fading, our pages now blank
as if we were never there
erstwhile alone, Aphrodite comes to me in the mirror
placing roses and doves in my withered trees
holding me safe in these desolate sea
now the flowers of night have swallowed the pain
peace, nascent winged, falls gently down, upon me
colour has settled on my budding leaves
my blossoms, once shadow bound
are now opening gently to the light
the dark tides of your seas now ebbing away
and my own endless oceans, like the nightingale’s serenade
is now calling softly to me
© Ann Bagnall