In fine fragile filaments her image is cast

No more than a shimmer ‘gainst sky dark and vast

As night silence summons her innocent face

Like a moth to a flame she is drawn to this place

Delicate steps through the darkest of hours

Bring this young apparition from her ivory towers

She pirouettes pensive in unearthly dance

A translucent figure naive in its stance

With footsteps that flicker amid shadows and light

Whilst pale lunar path lures her out from the night

A contour reflected against midnight’s dark frieze

Thin gossamer gown whirling soft on the breeze

This vision is rare and nearly all will be met

With the merest impression of a faint silhouette

Elusive young spirit on the dark side of pale

As, childlike, she dances her tentative trail

Each solstice her ghostly attendance implies

That this is the place her young memory lies