Beneath the waning moon the forest lies
Illuminated oddly in stripes and patches
A brook babbles into darkness and is seen no more.

Above me the branches arch as if to form a thatched roof
and through it shine the stars like a dusting of fairy lights
While beside me a path of flowers leads the way
to places unreal.

I raise my mournful flute to my lips and it sings
of long gone pasts now only half remembered
The somber notes are bitter-sweet
and they carry me away.