Autumn Fields taste of woe,
smell of memories from long ago,
sound like summer's one last chance
look like the faerie's farewell dance.

Across the grass a lost child walks
alone and afraid, quietly talks
of ghouls and ghosts and fearful things
nothing like the song she sings.

It tells the tales of those long past
and wonderful things that never last.
This child knows the face of death,
has already taken her final breath.

Broken arms and broken feet,
walks on still, her fate to meet.
Broken eyes and broken soul,
walks by the side of a newborn foal.

Foal is hungry but can't go home
his mother's dead, now he's left to roam
filled with bitterness and hate,
finds the child to be his fate.

Child of legend, child of lore,
child who's wisdom is no more.
Foal of rejection and of spite,
follows forever his master white.

Autumn Fields taste of rain,
smell of a child's innocence slain,
sound like a restless spirit's fears,
look like a web of unshed tears.

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