Your luminous light grazes fragile trees.

A precious light, so pure; one of a kind.

Across my knees I feel the gentle breeze,

Just like all the thoughts flowing in my mind.

I love the moons white, sincere, silent shine.

Instilled with innocence, the field is dark.

Throughout the air lies a strong smell of pine.

The next moment, in the breeze drifts a lark.

Suddenly, starting decent towards the park,

A sharp, tense feeling of danger arrived.

There seems to be something the lark has marked.

In the shadows, someone love deprived.

I reach out my hand so she's not alone.

Guide her; she will soon make it on her own.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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