We walked from winters’ path
having left the immutable past
rememberences of failures
to the bright rebirth of spring
past the ancient faery ring
joyful
fancy’s sailors
None can see None can be
Just we can cross those waters
None to hear None to fear
No stones stained from slaughters
In a place where fancys face
can look me in the eyes
in a room where thoughts can bloom
before the image dies