Annie's Poetry

I don’t answer when midnight tolls
it knows my name, it has always known my name
it carved it into the cycle of the moon
and waited patiently for me to notice
the night is windless, but the shadows are moving
the moon turns pale and the stars retreat
as though they know what is coming
a faint sensation of someone once loved
standing impossibly close
the moon emerges from behind the clouds
somewhere, a clock finishes striking twelve
I turn away from the window
and midnight is already gathering its bells
for tomorrow
©Ann Bagnall