A perfect picture painted
across an empty space
a place you once knew well
the sky has become violet
and there is a slow drift of clouds
the taste of dreams
upon your tongue
the sweet scent of jasmine
the flowering of your life
a rose floats at the water’s edge
and a tear falls slowly
shattering the glass in the frame
now an unquiet field
of trembling shadows
an unseen hand
a door opens, a last look
floating colours
all the variations
there comes the sound
of words that were never said
and the relentless pealing
of the funeral bell
until only the echoes are left
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 