The sweet scent of hawthorn blossoms fills the air and surrounded by the silence, the silhouette of the old forest fades into the shadows ... barely the moon is reflected in the stream, no longer wants to comb next to the old poplar tree, or sit on top of the treasures, says my old elf that night two tears rolled down her cheeks pearl ... like every spring, the old forest lucia gown, magical beings were busy putting garlands of flowers in each corner, and the elves had tuned their flutes, all was ready, even the trees debuted their new suits. .. smiles and whispers fairy ... maybe leave some human Echizen for its beauty and might drag the world of dreams ... in all their finery, moon walking proudly among the wheat ... just missing it. .. everyone thought it would be gracing his feathers, and that at any moment their beautiful wings tend to ride the night hugging the wind, that's when the hissing of the iron machine broke the harmony, the moon I raise my eyes and there together the old poplar that always lay inert shelter ... the train of four raged through the silence, the same night that pierced the bowels of the old forest ... white owl was there, the small trickle of blood betrayed the pellet lost in his temple, his dying eyes sought the moon that I love, and she prostrate caress her warm and soft feathers with the tenderness of a lover while old poplar leaves were dried in pain ... I wonder if whoever he has a heart
Leydi ~ Halcon
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