In the hour of deepest shadows
dreams, dark as smoke
swirl around me like mist
soft flutterings of butterfly wings
whispering ghosts of memories
echoing all the things that I regret
calling softly, like a murmur
rain sings a ceaseless song
that plays upon my soul
as the moon slips below the horizon
and with every passing second
I am melting, melting away into morning
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 