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Wandering, Following Paths to the River by Wendy Zinger |
In a tall tower, an elegant spire,
A lady grieves and the wind conspires
To carry the scent of her grief away
To an inland sea, to the farthest quay,
To an isle lost to the mortal thrum,
Where on strings of pearls the harpers strum
And alabaster cities glow,
In the moonlit strands I used to know,
As I walked the beaches of Eressea,
And danced by the light of the Silver Tree,
Its memory lighting the Evening Star,
On these hither shores and those bays afar,
And the moon bids all the stars join hands,
And dance and whirl over darkened lands,
So a city of harps comes to life and voice,
As lost are we, but yet rejoice,
Wandering far in this net of trees,
Grieving for loss of the silver seas,
And the lady alone, in her midnight pacing,
Looks out afar, and she’s westward facing.
Copyright © 1996 Wendy Zinger
All Rights Reserved.