My love is wild and dark as forest’s heart;
Her hands are laced with shadows woven black;
She watches from the shadows, yet takes no part.
She is the only thing I still do lack.
My love is sallow-bright as moonlight glow
With eyes of ice and skin like summer smoke.
Her voice keens in the eaves of starlit snow;
Hers is the face I saw when I awoke.
My love is soft and gentle as the dusk,
Hair of river-water, heart of stone.
Though her touch turns living things to husk,
Much and more I’d give for her, my own.
I am entranced with her and what she’s shown,
Yet never shall we meet ‘til last light flown.