My heart was your loom
the delicate weaving
of many thrumming threads
a web of silken lies
desire deeply etched
upon my innocent soul
sweet promises in disguise
were gently unravelling
like soft fragrant petals
opening to the sun
there was never enough time
to see the lingering danger
for I was unaware
of the darkness
waiting in the shadows
and the cold cruel winds
that quietly stalked
my perfect skies
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 