They danced with energy, an intensity only explained as one emotion,

Drums pounding in the soil, extraordinary spirits traipsing on the ground,

Heads held high, wings blossumed as full as flowers on a bright day,

The magnificence began to melt away, receeding into the night.

Out of the storm, their true apperence,

Intertwined together, their hands a locket.

Smiling, running as if they still had wings,

They stopped at a dirt path.

Stone daggers erupted from the granite hundreds of feet below,

There, the grey sea was pushed by a lightning eye,

The eye of cation, if this demon crosses your path,

She is frightened, he tightens his grip, “You can trust me.”

A lark calls, an ironic symbol,

A sprig of heather leaves his hand and melts into her long cinamonn hair,

The heather is fooled by this false soil,

They walk again, clinging even more tightly.

A hidden grove, the secret garden,

The wind gently lifts the wings away from the small entence,

Lushily filled of green, secluded from the rest of the world,

A perfect fit for only two, this now the locket.

The mirror of the heavens is faint,

Calling like the breath of the earth on its cold hands,

They talk softly, whispering, giggling by the light of one candle,

Beneath the grand oak, they dance.

An energy of white light envelopes the grove,

A gust of wind believes them to be powerful,

Her arms around his waist, his cheek resting on hers,

Their heards turn, their eyes lock.

Sapphire jewles that matched the sky at day,

Soft chesnuts, the smooth soil, now connected as the locket,

Lips meet as love blossums forever in their hearts,

The door on the locket folds, closing the perfect dream.