…for the lost hours

I am without you, listening to the hours pass
my soul is an empty room and my heart
my poor heart breaks in my desolation
now I am falling into the cradle of sleep
although you are lost to me, I go forth into peace
drifting with your soul for eternity
longing for the lost hours
the evening chorus brings comfort in the fallen night
the long shadows clinging fast to me
glimpses of ancient ghosts
running my hands over history
the deep grey of stone, the enduring cold of moss green walls
I look at the dappled floor, but the rock is undisturbed
there is honeysuckle drifting in the air
and purple petals swirling into the void
with the slowly drifting leaves of our self inflicted tragedies
surrounded by memories
the endless hours are always filled with perfumed moments
but as the ebb and flow cradles the sea
the echoes of silence are coloured with pain
the sharp edges of loss
softly singing in the varied cadence of pleasure and pain
in the whispers of dawn
the light of the moon is fading, slipping away once more
© Ann Bagnall