In misty mornings shade

by the old oak on meadows bell

where our words once in young foolishness fell


Our not spoken

when never touching

softly with fumbling fingers we go beyond our hollow souls


My mistress in morning shade

with words from soft lips

fleeing fool of tomorrow


Grasp what today may bring

scream your heart at will

stand tall to face your penance


Forged with tears from fools

standing tall by hollow shade

beyond tomorrows grace