Dreams
In the dark of the witching hour
The moon beamed through her open door
And wafted across the snowy blanket
Falling deep in her chocolate hair.
Beyond her eyes, the world was spinning
Away in her highland castle
She followed the stag through the wood
Resting beside a babbling brook.
The colours filled her heart with warmth
Her eyes sparkled, she was happy
The stag stood bold, strong and tall
Among the rocky grey stones.
She dreamt of peace and harmony
She dreamt of the present and history.
Charlie Ann Alford 