…drowned in centuries

Seasonal moments, the earth sighs joyfully
as the sky bends low
and they both swallow me whole
as the trees whisper and sigh
beneath a bright autumn moon
the cool night is trembling
fragrant petals are falling their last act of beauty
these fragile hours drowned in centuries
embroidered with daydreams
heavy with false hope they brush around me
from where the mist swirls
eerie flickers hovering in whispers of harmony
trembling candle flames
shifting in the breeze, cool fingers of moonlight
perfumed jasmine flowers
bright, like lost stars
having fallen down from the heavens
now embroidering the day
they are endlessly swirling in autumn wreaths
with the crumbling leaves
only to slowly fade away into the eternal shadows
beauty from a distance
like someone calling my name
in a language I once knew
© Ann Bagnall