Whorl Fingerprint

The hallow inside the given tree that calls and beckons to me. I cannot help but become enraptured of all there is to see. The dancing faeries hop around with immense delight. Oh, this is such a pleasing sight. But, behold! The night is free! I feel drawn to the murky blanket of the nocturnal time. The glittering hues of pale pink and baby blue Don some sort of mysterious hue As I walk around the cobblestone path, The mystique of the undulation of colors derives from those who purloin babies from mothers as the giggle and laugh and steal. The hated lies that come Foaming out and dropped of children that formed not a bout. As they are pacified by glittering dreams tonight. The lullabies soothe and bathe them as they lie down. The songs and chants are hypnotic as I tread that path. I warily glance to the night as I could be taken. The last dew left on the bottom of the lily tonight. It was the Eve of the Hallow and not a soul was in sight, yet twinkling lights kept rebounding up high. I clutched my child unto my chest. Lest he be taken from my breast. Oh, behold, as the shining intensified. Nothing was left for me to be pacified.