Perfectly composed
each curl of your lies
like smoke twisting
into the night
while translucent
wisps of clouds
are depriving the moon
of her light
ravaged by your seasons
in the mirror I see
an image of someone
who used to be me
harsh winter lines
already drawn
my colours now fading
to shadows
whispering to me
in the darkness
my heart
revealing its wings
relentlessly beating
in silence
your ripples slowly fading
from view
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 