ah- it is the sun in the hemlock grove

In order for Eternity

I tried to write you down

But joy cannot be trapped in page

Nor harmony be bound

If all that was remembered 

Soon becomes forgot

At least i have still a smile

At first a sense upon her brow

Perhaps the shadows grow

The unlike scent upon the air

Of orange brown, of Gold

All at once does dance the wind

Her whispers are enough