Innocence Lost
Dancer, Dance
under the pale lit moon
To the aging
familiar tune
While daisies die
in this madness
all to fly
The spirits sing
reflected in the golden ring
and honey drips
off my fingers
to my lips
the tears all but sting
as the clock bells ring
never again
my soft pillows
or may I
dance among the willows
for the anger
has been opened
and the softness
forever broken
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