I chanced upon a silver tree
once, in aeons past.
Out of the bushes, I'd stumbled free,
hoping for shelter at last -
For I was lost within a storm,
I sought to escape that bitter rain!
A peaceful glade - the Tree gave form
under its branches, warmth remained.

The pollen formed a snowy haze
meandering idly through the air,
To the west, a Flame ablaze,
accompanied a voice so fair.
For a gentle melody had caught mine ear,
faint through the sounds of drumming rain -
I turned; saw a Maiden, singing there
And upon my mind, did the sight ingrain.

Her skin the colour of autumnal leaves
even in the midst of Spring,
Gazing out from beneath antlered eaves
at the soggy form the storm did bring.
Indeed, as I stepped forth into the glade,
I felt what seemed a warm embrace -
And with the storm the darkness did fade
as I flopped on the grass sans grace.

A quivering note permeated the now stilled air -
a haunting song echoing through the years.
I found I would then gladly declare
to stay forever, without any fears.
And as I thought thus, a shaft of moonlight bright,
transformed the glade into an argent sea.
Yes, a Silver Tree I did find that night -
or perhaps... was it the Tree that found me?