I''ve put poems into this chapter as the prologue needs to be at least 500 characters:


    Words


    Sometimes you can focus


    so much on the green;


    That you miss the blue and


    white above.


    Hallencoly Hill


    That time on Hallencoly Hill,


    I saw them dancing,


    Swallows no less than five,


    Larks no more than fifteen.


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    A display to herald the Zenith


    of Spring;


    Or the ever-growing Floral song that leads


    into June Summer.


    Each swallow skipped in skirts of


    navy with blouses of snow,


    Whilst their heads were crowned with


    garlands of crimson roses.


    The prancing, springing and


    joyous larks,


    Were bedecked in stars to the


    Swallows'' moon.


    Yet each had their hair shaped into a


    nautical crest;


    From aqua one way;


    Then surf-ultra the other.


    Yet it was their song that came


    to me;


    Entwined with harps, piccolos,


    and flutes,


    That danced from twirling invisible


    hands.


    Words also sprang from the


    avian lips;


    To the accompaniment of butterflies


    cut from the very sky.


    Of woods and towns so far away,


    That never would I hear of them between


    breaks of day.


    Of ages old, and ages new;


    Yet they had remained in


    chiselled prime;


    Floral Mountains not even Time


    could wither.


    Till one spied me with a single


    glance.


    Fresh, unearthly and with more


    than a dance.


    And up they flew without a second


    glance.


    Not nymphs, dryads or even


    Elf-maids,


    But Maltese-crossed Swallows and


    Cloud-passing larks.


    To continue their dance upon the brow


    of a cumulus hill.


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