…with the autumn wreaths

Night falls and with it, rain
slow, like someone sobbing
just as a thought flows
across the surface of a slow moon
I still walk here, without you
calling gently, from moment to moment
falling, gently into the past, where wild roses
once splashed their colours on the night
the places that we thought would be eternal
are now like shifting sand and shadows
seasonal, the hours drowned in centuries
they brush around me from where the mist swirls
eerie flickers hovering in whispers of harmony
trembling candle flames, cool fingers of moonlight
jasmine flowers like stars having fallen from the heavens
now embroidering the dark, swirling with the autumn wreaths
and the crumbling leaves as they fall into the shadows
in the mirror there are no lies, until I awake
on the other side with the ghost of you
watching the dust dance and then settle
into the colours of the sun
until I fall apart
© Ann Bagnall