Whispers by a wandering brook
their speakers shrouded by mist
somewhere within the shadowed fog
they hide
laughing
in time
with the brook
luring me
so I'll follow their call
and venture
far from the path
till I lose my way in the dark.

''Songs sung by rustling golden leaves
screen their singers from view
behind autumn foliage
they snicker
a sweet tinkling on the breeze
snaring me in their well made net
Till I see with growing
sorrow
that the woodland path is gone:
I've lost my way in the dark.

Silence in the silver moonbeams
illuminates their figures in light
around us sits the mist
caressing the golden leaves
obscuring
the world
from view.
A peal of bell like giggling
breaks into the dark.
Pain
a shard of glass
shattered by a flickering flame
then nothing...
They welcome me to their midst
with the glass the cut away
memories of mourning'
and all that passed before.
Now I whisper,
I sing...
In the dark.

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