• Somewhere among the shores
    Where mists cling to the land
    Shrouding it with days of old
    When mischief was close at hand.
    Roams a child, her face obscured,
    As she runs across the sand.

    The time for her to leave has come,
    Tears dripping, mixing with saltwater.
    Away from the boats she runs,
    Further and further into her place of magic.
    They are waiting for her, the Takers,
    And they drag her onto the boat.

    She knows that she cannot get away,
    She will never see her home again,
    Or run with magic til the full moon is high.
    To another world she travels where she cannot play.
    There is no magic there, only work,
    But she will tell a story to never forget her home.

    Somewhere among the shores
    Where mists cling to the land
    Shrouding it with days of old
    When mischief was close at hand
    Roams a child, her face obscured
    As she runs across the sand.