An Unnamed Girl Wanders Thereafter

A whistle in the wood,

she walks.

A silence in the soul,

she strays.

A mirage in the mire,

she wanders.

Skies grow vast and dark.

Here, within the trees, she dares to dream.

The silver fog swallows her whole,

her skins grows cold and soft and green,

yet still she dares to dream in the quiet.

She swells with the land, as the wind

beckons the girl to fall into its embrace.

What harm could nature do? she asks,

as her heart beats low, her senses dull,

as her eyes go heavy and the night closes in.

She hears the whistle, feels the silence, tells herself

here in the mire, that she is safe to wander.

With only her soul to guide,

with only her mind to see, here she roams in peace.

An unnamed girl wanders thereafter.