Blue

I woke at the dawn
The mist was lying heavily, I stumbled through the thorn
She stared into me
With eerie calm she turned her back and walked into the sea
She slouched into the deep

For thirteen silver moons
We searched across the shoreline, for her mane, her shoes
We searched through sand and dirt
The captain is a holy man, we pray that she's not hurt
He whispers while we work

What winter lies beneath?
The oldest, the wisest, spin rumours into sheets
A throne wrought in the cold
Where young dukes ride on frozen clay
Their saddles painted gold
Not fearful and not warm

I went, into the night
The winter winds had whipped the smoke high upon the moor
I saw her shadow then
Among the burning heather as she danced into the dark
The silent ceaseless dark
And I followed, from afar



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