Forgotten

I see a forgotten house I hear the cry of the rook I feel the moonbeams In the still brooks. I know the coming wind Rising from the south I feel the echoing of this forgotten house I taste words better at your mouth The wind cuts deep I bleed thoughts into the invisible I feel your forgotten house I feel the cry of rook I know what is near me I feel a pale orb, odd, cool, high Cold light gathers in still brooks I see a forgotten house.