Jul 23
It was the mist that carried her over,
Her fragile form merged with the dark.
Her feet were wet and seeding clover,
And whatever she touched, she left a mark.
Her fragile form merged with the dark.
Her feet were wet and seeding clover,
And whatever she touched, she left a mark.
She drifts on mist and shadow, weaving fate with every step — the keeper of chance, the lady who marks the course of lives
