Description
In chambers draped with twilight's hush, where shadows dance and sigh,
A wisp of memory, oh so young, of Lenore flits by.
No specter grim of shrouded form, nor beauty cold and pale,
But laughter bright, a summer's day, that lingers in this veil.
Her eyes, twin sapphires in the sun, held mischief, joy, and grace,
Her chestnut hair, worn up high, adorned her laughing face.
We'd chase the fireflies at dusk, their glow a fleeting spark,
And weave tales spun of moonlit dreams beneath the rustling dark.
No mournful dirge for her I weave, no raven's hollow croak,
But whispers soft of playful days, by some forgotten brook.
A daisy chain upon her head, a smile that lit the dawn,
These are the treasures that I keep, though fleeting years have gone.
For youth, with rose-kissed glasses, paints a world of pure delight,
Where loss, a whisper on the breeze, has yet to sting or bite.
But even now, a phantom touch, a memory bittersweet,
Of Lenore, in her innocent charm, forever incomplete.