At eventide, the meadow was full of the moon, the wind was blowing across the way, all

in the merry month of May. At dusk the balefire sang it’s song, to the sky. As dreams and wishes were coming true, I saw a Willow wisp by you. They come forth at night on gossamer wings, cobweb fine, and mesmerize you with a silent song to echo through time…

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful