Mist on the Glass
A heavy mist upon the glass,
A specter of a love once known,
The silvered shadows as they pass,
In seeds of silence, softly sown.
A haunting pulse, a romantic chill,
A melody that drifts and sighs,
Where every aching heart is still,
Underneath the hollow skies.
You are the echo, the breath, the ghost,
A beautiful and vast unknown,
The one the spirit craves the most,
Upon the dark and starlit throne.
In the afterglow, we fade away,
A mystery the woods will keep,
Where golden light and shadows play,
While the weary forest seeks its sleep.
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