Her hair of flaxen raven dew..
shinning with the moonlights beams so few..
And yet he could not reach her.
And flowing like the wings of a dove
she steps through the glassy mirror,
upon a lake sent from above
She shows him not to fear
darkness sets upon a stormy sea... admiration comes in more then three,
we do not know what the heart shall guess.. we do not know until we pass such tests. flowing is our mind so true.. yet it keeps thinking of simply you
