A round white mirror

Peeping from behind the clouds 

Werewolves prowl alone

Treacherous beaches

Sinking in my quicksand heart

Running to the shore

With sodden footwear 

We trudge through barren marshes

When barons once ruled 

Moss covered foothills

Ripples fly across the lake

Like swooping swallows

After a damp noon

Wind whipped clouds rolling away

A silver lining

Freshly cut grass scent

Carries me back to last year

Familiar turf

I will carry you

Over snowy mountain peaks

Until darkness falls