Annie's Poetry

The sun in beauteous splendour
is awakened most unwilling from her slumber
as the darkness rolls over like a tired lover
and takes her resting place
she stretches, languishing a last lingering glance
as always, in the final seconds, as they part
she rises, still sleepy from their rumpled, silken bed
and looks out to the horizon
the light from her eyes and the tears of separation
are sprinkled like diamonds across the aching expanse
the breathless, heaving breast of the darkened ocean
over which she fashions a rose wine, crimson tinted blush
that warmly spreads, intimate
like searching fingers, a blazing desire
heat that burns like heaven melting
she breathes a morning breeze that sighs playfully
a jasmine scented, skilled seductress
flowing warmly through my soul
such wonders this day begets
that for sorry eyes and aching hearts must soon be forsaken
a splendid vision, painstakingly painted
gently, like love itself, in sorrows’ place
a lonely nightingale in his despair farewells the fleeing night
and anthems me most mournfully
as if he knows my very heart, I, for whom this lovely morn
unparalleled in nature’s grace
pales as I stand here, fading, as always, in your wake
© Ann Bagnall
2015