by Scarlett de Courcier

Created on: June 13, 2009

The hair falls, blonde and long:

A cherished doll. Birdsong

Echoes through the dale, as

Twilight casts its gaze and vixens wail.

Sparks driven out as spikes driven in

Places gone, things untold: people she's been.

An openness: the silky vapour

Evaporates, yet cannot escape her

Cocoa eyes, wide as the day they met.

He sees her yet. He hears her yet.

Though she says no words, casts a glance

Over her shoulder, flying askance

Ringlets quiver in the breeze,

Yet in the shadow of the trees,

No man appears. And yet she hears

A pheasant's cry: the yellowest canary

Its song a desp'rate scream, contrary;

Muntjacs dance with target tails,

But the vixen, ever hidden, wails.

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