The ribbons of moss
hanging from the trees
They remind me of the ghost
who’s been watching me
her hair changed to ribbons
like the seaweed
she found herself tangled in
until she was lost at sea
The ribbons of the clouds
turned pink and purple
remind me of the mornings
of longing, waiting by my window
for you to return to me
turning the morning into a
different kind of yearning
but this shall never be
The ribbons of the birds
as they search the southern sky
in silent formation
their bodies know the way
an ancient ritual
repeated annually
as thoughtless as infinity
an instinct followed blindly
much like I followed you
The ribbons of the fog
as it obscures the night sky
like ghostly fingers
come to steal starlight
drifting through the night
on still silent wings
crossing impenetrable lines
with impudent demands
The ribbons of vessels
running criss-cross through me
feel the absence of my heartbeat
moving blood along.
I am still breathing,
yes, this is true
but since you left me
my heart has gone still.
Darrie Writes Here 