Willowfall Glade
Turn where the willow's tears still fall,
And follow where the river's call,
Through meadows green beyond the wall,
Where whispers echo down the hall
Of ancient secrets, big and small.
Cross over bridges spun from dreams,
Through shimmering, sun-dappled streams.
The path forks left on fairy gleams,
To where the lonely star-seed teems
Upon a hill of pastel schemes.
And when the twilight paints the sky,
Where sleepy clouds go floating by,
You'll see a garden, low and high,
Where painted stones with magic lie,
Beneath the watch of one small fly.
A waterfall of silver sighs
Will lead you past the startled eyes
Of little gnomes who tell no lies,
To where the golden poppy tries
To touch the home that never dies.
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