ARIA

The Aria calls
Mist to clear
Meadows dawn
Lisping fear
Deep and deeper
Touching soul
Memories young
Memories old.

A phantom land
Footsteps to glide
Each rolling wave
Sweet tears cried
An echo high
Upon the clouds
Rising pitch
Each noble sound.

Soundtrack to
The blowing gale
Shining eyes
Lifting veil
A face of tender
Beguilling lips
Moments to fall
In time it slips.