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| Shadows coalesce in splendor. |
The Susurration of Pines
The Witching Hour
Cobblestone streets
Weaving through dense fog
No sound save for the footfalls
That echo with each step
A doorway sits in shadow
Tendrils of mist
Twisting like searching fingertips
A brass knocker sits in wolf’s maw
Waiting for that fateful touch
Weaving through dense fog
No sound save for the footfalls
That echo with each step
A doorway sits in shadow
Tendrils of mist
Twisting like searching fingertips
A brass knocker sits in wolf’s maw
Waiting for that fateful touch
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