Through grey mist, heavy rain
Captures a ringing, softened glow,
Peering out of them, another tragedy -
As if we couldn\'t hear it.
Their drifted joy,
Through the fog, on paths;
Several fires, winding, crumbling,
Wooden shapes to mask their nature.
Once, maybe, they were,
Here, there, around - laughing,
Singing, in spite, but now;
White majesty, no sound.