Under the cloak of the Night you crept
Bearing words of honey-suckle sweet
A shadow in the night you are
just a beautiful stranger.

And, oh, how part of me wishes
I could take your words and run
Enveloped in the grace of Mother Night
Until there was nothing left to run from,
Nothing left to fear.

But life, my dear stranger, does not work that way,
Things do not simply disappear,
Words wrapped in honey-suckle sweet
Do not make fears or sadness fade.

And thusly I pray that,
At least for today,
You stay as you are,
Just a simple, beautiful stranger,
Whispering words to make me smile.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Ultio, in the year 459 AD.