Annie's Poetry

In my dreams
the trees are heavy with dew
the glacial morning sun is weeping icy tears
each falling drop feels like pieces of me
as I am slowly falling apart
just as the are leaves falling one by one
as if chosen, each playing a part
in a growing serenade
a ghostly mist, soft as a whisper
dances slowly, a sad pirouette
like a lover abandoned to the cold winter winds
© Ann Bagnall