Off mountain tops to glen below
Her cries of sorrow echo,
Her wails course deer trails
Through forest into the vales.
From rippled river to crown of trees
Her haunting song wafts on breeze,
From tawny dusk 'til first daylight
Her chants of sorrow pierce the night.
They say the spirit is a princess bride
From yesteryears forgotten tribe
Searching for her warrior mates soul
Lost in battle many decades ago.
No one can say who sings such sorrow
Through each long night 'til the morrow.
No one has seen the princess of night
Whose voice so lilts like birds in flight.
Harvest moon nights you can hear
Her cries of anguish eerily clear,
Hauntingly beautiful in a strange way
It ebbs to cease at break of day.
'Til one night 'neath moons bright glow
No cry was heard in the valley below.
Quietness has settled over forest floor
The princess bride searches no more.
©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 02-11-04
Please Visit :
Poetry By Ken
Page Created: Pam Gallo
Midi : Star Keeper