In trailing hem
the slightest hint of the divine
lost to the night in times of old
a sorrowful moan is all thats heard
as the raven fly's his sorrowful road
dreams my child a mother whispers
dreams are all we know have
long ago there was a place my dear
but now its memory has been lost to this land
close your eyes and picture the forest and perhaps you will see
its nothing to all that we have now peace and tranquility
trading it all was a cheap price to pay
but you must not think on it
or you'll forget to truly see that the price we all payed was the freedom of you and me
this poem was just for fun its really not that good but it has a message
