…become our threnody

My heart still wanders in our secret places
in those hidden places where love was once born
and where it was once lost, in endless drama and repetition
shifting back and forth from the heat of summer
to the frozen shadows of the lingering winter
the beat of our hearts, keeping time with the cycles of the seasons
and never able, to fall to rest together
now once again I have drifted back, into this place of blooming
where my heart calls to yours in the dawning
the familiar fragrance of flowers floats in on gentle winds
from the last gasps of the vanishing night
my soul aches to swim once more, in the oceans of your dreams
but I languish, starless and empty, upon the barren shores
the weight of destiny falls heavily in the moment
along with the last of the petals
omens once disregarded, now sadly becoming truths
here, where you and I and the free-falling leaves
are drifting once more in our winter waters 
where both the silence and the songs of death, call softly to me
where I am still not free, from the wild winds of my mourning
I see our ashes drifting in the ebb tide, as I linger here
beneath the last stars, longer than my heart can bear
my sorrow slowly rising on gentle wings
the whispers of the sea are now calling to me
the souls of the dead are not at rest
and while these may be our winter fields
the moon still rises and the moon still sets
our song still plays upon my heart
memories become our threnody
the soft seasons ever circling
where my heart still wanders in our secret places
those hidden places where love was born
and where it was lost over and over, in endless repetition
© Ann Bagnall