We wildly ran so deep within the cherry woods
that none of us knew when we left the world behind.
You worried, but you danced; The wind made branching flutes
play colored tones by whistling through your punctured mind.

Your skin throws fevered sparkles to the moonlit haze
and every bone bends ‘round in twisted crinkling cracks
to match the wicked smile imprinted on my face.
We worry, but we dance so meadows taste our tracks.

I worry now our mortal soles won’t touch the ground
and, as the grin I wear no longer seems my own,
I hear us cackle freely, twirling all around
while on the ground your shadow watches us alone.

Yet where I've seen mine last, it seems I can’t recall.
As heaven’s mourning light turns sky-bound skin to grey,
my fingers fade and lose your weight. I see you fall,
where dawn becomes the dusk that takes your dance away.

At 8PM the frogs shall scream
to mark the rising of the moon
and evening winds will hum inside
a lullaby of fading light.

Beyond the hills their golden glow
becomes a treasure slept upon:
It grows beyond amphibian sight
in melodies of broken white.

At 10PM the slopes fall still
when darkness strikes their ragged peaks
as broken flames take dancing flights
in harmony with fallen nights.

Beyond the ponds their shadows leap
to swallow dreams of colored days
and fall cold-bloodily in fright
from all the hunger darkness hides.

At 12AM our silence roars
where breezes will not carry scents.
Forsaken souls are burning bright
and waiting on the other side

- across the hidden hilltop pond -