The moaning mist was there with he
Beneath green eyes in entropy
And in the morning never came
Around, more than the shadows seem
This lovely man was all the same
To me as to the things he changed
Revered as I would never know
To wash me in his summer rain
I pondered on his wisdom though
For he much older than I so
In any case would be his best
Choice, and wonder where this wind would blow
Should i step north or rather west
To shift this movement of his neck
To mine, and whoa to lay abreast
And rest atop his weary chest
And rest atop his weary chest