she comes to me after midnight,
whispering soft in my ear
her face full of moonlight,
her dress pale blue
starlight glints in the weave
i almost understand her whispered words

in a language i once knew
she tries to tell me stories,
lost long ago in sleep,
stories i lost in a dream,
stories inscribed on a unicorns horn
and the print of a satyrs hoof

i gather a word here and there
i store them away with care
but all the next day i long for her
my heart is bewitched, enthralled
I long for the night on the hill in the wood