On the Eve of the Night

Courtesy: Pixabay
On the eve of the night,
invading the forest in her gown,
a piano's echo calling,
a single light beckoning,
the dream that had become reality
telling her
she'd taken her longing too far.

Candelabra flames wreathing immortal,
she passed transient in shadow,
a sonata whispering,
an apparition leading,
her new reality wrapped in fantasy
letting her know
there was no reason to ever leave.

©February 2022
Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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