There, midst the damp morning caws, of the crows.
Strange how a feeling, can reach out and pierce,
A forlorn heart, and a sleepy brow.
Here in the vastness, of my lonesome dreams,
Hauntingly, effortlessly, you did light my fire.
Blowing gently, to fan the embers, through a misty screen.
The mists receding back into the valley, from whence they came.
As quickly as the voice had come, it fades, yet the song still sighs,
Lingering in the breeze, the echos, of a shrouded dream.