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<blockquote data-quote="Ketch" data-source="post: 2562293" data-attributes="member: 51132">On a bare portion of the tree, if one were to take the time to look closely, a few lines of writing can be seen marring the bark.&nbsp; Though the markings seem old, most can't seem to remember seeing the scrap of verse here before...as if some lost soul had scratched a few words idly in the dirt on some far world and wished them here.&nbsp; If, of course, you believe in such things... Are the shadows still silver?Do they still dance with theShift of leaves like laughter,The whim of everyBreeze that paused to touch her face?Is there still gold in the sunrise?Song in the starlight?Does the light of dawn still trembleLike held breathAs it did when it turned her skinGold in the morning?Answers leave ash toCut my eyes from memory.The fire I followed burns dim,Forgotten.The road I walk shatters likeBlack glass beneath the moonBeneath my feet.Still she calls.&nbsp; Still I answer withMy blood upon the stones,Tracing black riddles toDraw me closer, Soft as her whispers when dreaming.Do the trees still echo laughterIn the breath held between moments?Or does only silence lingerWhere once she spoke my name…The lines are signed with a single word, only visible if you lean close to peer past the scarring across it.&nbsp; Jack.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Ketch, post: 2562293, member: 51132"] [I]On a bare portion of the tree, if one were to take the time to look closely, a few lines of writing can be seen marring the bark. Though the markings seem old, most can't seem to remember seeing the scrap of verse here before...as if some lost soul had scratched a few words idly in the dirt on some far world and wished them here. If, of course, you believe in such things...[/I] Are the shadows still silver? Do they still dance with the Shift of leaves like laughter, The whim of every Breeze that paused to touch her face? Is there still gold in the sunrise? Song in the starlight? Does the light of dawn still tremble Like held breath As it did when it turned her skin Gold in the morning? Answers leave ash to Cut my eyes from memory. The fire I followed burns dim, Forgotten. The road I walk shatters like Black glass beneath the moon Beneath my feet. Still she calls. Still I answer with My blood upon the stones, Tracing black riddles to Draw me closer, Soft as her whispers when dreaming. Do the trees still echo laughter In the breath held between moments? Or does only silence linger Where once she spoke my name… [I]The lines are signed with a single word, only visible if you lean close to peer past the scarring across it. Jack.[/I] [/QUOTE]

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