Whispers in the Moors

Whispers call me through the heather, cold wind knows my name. Shadows dance in

silver weather, echoes burn like flame. I see your face in every

window, your ghost beneath my skin. The rain is soft,

but full of sorrow, it pulls me back again. Through the moors

I'm running wild. Calling out to you, my child. Hear me cry

across the night. Love and death in pale moonlight. Your voice is tangled in the

willow, your breath is in the storm. I reach for you,

but find the hollow, the place where hearts are torn. The sky remembers