Within the attics of an old tower

Built of ancient bricks

Coated in strands of fibrous ivy

Set deep within the forest

Away from the eyes of mankind

Is a room of the palest marble

Where a young woman

Dressed in a green velvet gown

Sits close to a window and sighs

 

The room is lined with fragile books,

Silken fabrics and precious memories

Many years have passed by, since

The young woman was first held

Within this tower of secrets

Often, she has wished for release

Knowing that she must return home

 

On a blustery late November day

Very much like today

In a clearing below the tower

Autumn leaves, ripped from the trees

By a fierce, angry wind

Twirl and begin their dance

They gather together, rustling

And crackling as they touch

Then as one, rise up

To meet the tower window

Where they cling its stone frame

Forming a ladder of escape

 

Birds who have risen with them

Call to the woman, who knows their voices

The leaves cradle her slender form

And guide their precious cargo to the ground

Where she returns to the earth

From whence, many years ago

She, a visitor to this world, had come