…covers his steps

A midwinter night empty of stars, frost sparkles on black rooftops
on the cobblestone streets below the dark settles deep within
in this empty moment in time, he stands alone
the pain in his eyes deeper than the glassy pond
he stares with sadness at a familiar, empty bench
and wonders at the frigid touch of the cruel circling wind
that seems to steal his breath and slow his racing thoughts
in this endlessly long, dark exile, it seems that he dies a little
with every brittle leaf as it falls, forever fading from this life
he feels his lonely heart still beating, yet frozen with the weight of his loss
the night is forever falling, silent drifts of snow, now blowing in
he sighs deep and shuddering and unwillingly averts his gaze
from the familiar empty bench
shrugging his shoulders against the creeping cold
he slowly turns away, as the snow, like ashes, covers his quiet steps
© Ann Bagnall
2014