Annie's Poetry

No matter the season, there is always change
and with the passing of time my memories are suddenly colliding
like the last of the autumn leaves on a day of thunder
and in the crystal stillness of the mirror
I find myself longing for reflections that surge like waves
forever shifting and resting, ever changing, yet still unmarred
our past an open fan of fragile paper, pleated fold on fold
that will not reveal the truth and sorrow slowly circles me
like rain falling on cobblestones, black on black
© Ann Bagnall