From the Above

Birds were chirping from above;
a maiden was there wearing a white lace glove.
A flower in her golden brown hair;
she waltzed freely through the wintry air.

Eyes as blue as the frozen pond,
her soul is sharing a bond;
with the hurt and torment of love.
What happens when we drift above?

A road leads to loss,
another road filled with green moss.
She has a secrete inside,
one she doesn’t need to confide.

She’s in a land that seems so perfect,
but in the end it’s all a trick.
The air is thick;
It’s in a haze of great mist.