Do you remember… how we secretly met as joyfull mistrels at nightly crossstones and wishing wells?
In the moonshine we sang and spoke with the oak no tone was lost and no heart was broke.
Lying down in fairies‘ fern you held my hand a while you gazed at me and softly said „Your inmost song am I“.
And though a hundred years have passed I still can feel the air. It echoes through each cell of mine and I will find you there.