Silken darkness whispers across the wood
Shadowed leaves rustle beneath wind's caress
Silently, Night draws round her sable hood
And spreads her starstruck shroud o'er sky's canvas

Ethereal breezes edged with faeleaf sweet
Eluding mortal grasp, unfettered song
Of fae in glorious dance and slumber deep
In Faethorn, realm of wishful dreams long gone

Through archway wreathed in vines and flowers bright
Steps forth fair maiden, crowned with gold-spun hair
Upon her brow lies radiant Moon's pure light
And in her hands an ink-black rose, thornbare

From darkened portal wound with sharp-spined vine
Treads to the north a knight of visage dark
His weapons bear Night's favour in each line
Yet the moonflower in his grip shines stark

Under the drooping willows, near the bath
Their paths cross with a curious chance-caught grace
Gazes meet, and they draw close with a laugh
To enfold each other in warm embrace

Murmurs of lighter times and lonely past
Spill from their lips, shared in kindled shadow
As both in lover's fleeting presence bask
Snatched time feeding distanced souls left fallow

Dawn's heralds spin its ribbons at Night's hem
Somnolent birds stir and begin to croon
The flowers lie entwined with woven stem
And one last whisper lingers: "Quarter moon."