…of a summer day

That last time they stood together in a field of turmoil
on snow covered ground he offered her his hand
a candle flickered and a book was slammed shut
the night engulfing like a tomb
after, they were separated and at the end, when all was done
he lived forever in her heart, far beyond all depths
and they came to be forgotten in between are many years
endless relentless time, which does not allow footprints
leaving no traces at all
in their time was so much joy as there were shells in the sea
all arrived unexpected later
they walked in sadness like the wind
when she thought of him, she trembled, as spark in spring rain
she looked for his face, listened for his voice, everywhere
with an ancient instinct, she asked  the night for dreams
as if she could possibly see the ashes of a summer day
but time cares not for yesterday
and buries the sounds of memory, in the whispers of the wind
so they leave no footprints in the sands of time
© Ann Bagnall