…in ghostly white

Days pass so slowly
the cherry trees have finished blooming
and now their petals are weeping as they fall
falling softly into the unseen places
spinning as they descend, into the quiet void
between tree roots and memories
and I follow them
my mind slipping into the past
as though guided by the drifting colours
and the faint scent of fragrance drifting on the breeze
the winds of awakening quietly whispering to me
then without notice, becoming silent again
the grieving trees, their branches finally empty of their burden
are still reaching towards the sky in grief
as a melancholy mantle is drifting down on me
everything is suddenly cloaked in ghostly white
this silent beauty, overwhelms the sighing of the season
unveiling long unspoken desires
© Ann Bagnall