Sitting an the stones

She talks of a fable

In her dream,

She met someone probabale


The place was huge and husky

He stood alone dark and dusty

He moved undrifted

With the thrust if a lion

He walked unbound and irresisted

As if,

He was made for the place

Or if the place,

Existed just for him


With big hazel eyes,

She kept staring at the knight

Love, lust, despair and fright

She exhaled with every sigh

Behind the fogging dusk

The sun was numb

Hidden behind the herbs

She crouched to grass


She unfelt the cold

Everything was still

The wind, the birds, the clouds

Even her body shiver

Laid on the grass like a mew

Her body warmth melted the dew.