A lost friend

It was unnaturally still in the night before June
And I thought that the stars had come out to soon
The ancient trees were drooping and silently sleeping
Whilst shadows woke under them from restlessly sleeping

I stole to the window with a stealthy tread
Leaving my white and unpressed bed
And something alluring, aloof and queer
Like the sweet scent of flowers from the shores of the mere

Then through the grey hall I silently creeped
And over the chairs I swiftly leaped
I could not be seen me and the shadow were one
Then I emerged from tall and grey door as the night had begun

Is stood there still staring all the night I could stall
But then I did hear it my beckoning call
I fine musical tune distant and faint
Soft as the snow as proud as a saint
I listened and marvelled as I stared at the ground
At a wisp over the hills elegant and profound

I ran where my ears lead me and followed the tune
Over the old hills and over the mighty dunes
Across the old grass that gently swayed in the dark
That glimmered and shone and to the tune gleefully harked
Past the night horses which stood tall and yet lazy
They did not run for memory of elven folk to them was quite hazy

Then I did see him like a shadow he was faint
With silver hair shining so strong yet so daint
His mighty armour scarred yet still hopefully gleaming
His handsome face smiled he was sure yet unseeming
And in the faint moonlight his elegant cap flapped
Swaying to and fro at the darkness it lapped

My feet only made a ghost of a sound
Amongst the white pebbles so soft and so round
He gazed at me in his eyes a flicker, a flare
As the moon sparkled in the tips of his hair

He put his flute to his mouth and piped a thin note
Flowing and soft proud an remote
He smiled quite softly and in his I eyes I saw tears
As he shifted into shadow into the darkness, my fears

Now he is gone and the valley is bare
Where lonely I sand and lonely I stare
Where lonely I cry and lonely I weep
Where the birds do not sing and the stars do not sleep