deepundergroundpoetry.com
A place ever dreamed of
A collective soul of weakening wills
Under the full moon you will not dance
Fearing spirits of these wooded hills
Yet in passing, allowing a longing glance
Wandering away from that fearful crowd
To high places where some can only dream
A wooded bank obscured by a low lying cloud
Hovering over a fast falling mountain stream
In the still of dawn comes a soft low breeze
Blowing through your mist-damp raven hair
Turning leaves and needles of ancient trees
A place ever dreamed of, yet never to dare
Under the full moon you will not dance
Fearing spirits of these wooded hills
Yet in passing, allowing a longing glance
Wandering away from that fearful crowd
To high places where some can only dream
A wooded bank obscured by a low lying cloud
Hovering over a fast falling mountain stream
In the still of dawn comes a soft low breeze
Blowing through your mist-damp raven hair
Turning leaves and needles of ancient trees
A place ever dreamed of, yet never to dare
Published 9th Oct 2011
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