…have yet to begin

From the sighs of shadows, time is softly woven
illusory moments intricately crafted
ephemeral like mist, they slip away
here in their wake, mourning endures
you my love, you are a whisper on the wind
you are always there in the subtle song of rain
with the rising of the sun
and in the silent moonlit night
you bring me home
you, you are where it begins
and when the work of grief is done
when it has sobbed out its last utterance
you my love, you are where it ends
you open the gates of my heart
and all the things
and everything I need is here
all is spoken through your eyes
and memories have yet to begin
© Ann Bagnall