Pale Wanderer

I was invisible and she was seen

Snow sweetly sauntering through autumn leaves

Playing the voyeur seems somewhat obscene

As between dark trees she beautifully weaves

But with my paint and brush, I hunt a scene

An image and a feeling immortal

Of which she is the slim, ivory queen

Her leafy subjects guard a bright portal

Into a realm untouched by cruel time

Where all hearts love and all words sweetly rhyme

To let this moment fade would be a crime

I will depict her in her regal prime

The years will cause us to decay and fade

But she will be preserved in what I’ve made