The candle was flickering, softly, and, pale,
The maiden drew breath as flame turned to dust.
For hours on end, yet to no avail,
Fighting back all of her ghosts of the past.

The struggle grew harder, and she became weary,
Convincing herself that she might still let go;
But flood gates broke open, the maiden's eyes - teary,
Regrets, welling up, told tales of woe.

The song of the forest had faded, from both
The heart of the maiden and the long road ahead,
And silence bred fear, as fear, in turn, wrath,
And yet, through the darkness, she dared not yet tread.

Alas, it was growing much colder, and fear
Would not ail the shivers that turned flesh to stone.
As moonlight was fading, she made for the pier,
Gave in to her sorrows and sailed alone.