The shade of a bird <br />flew through my head <br />and like a needle <br />pulling thread <br />drew on its tail <br />a diamond wake <br />that woke my fancys' <br />placid lake. <br />The shade is flown, <br />the wake is closed, <br />the Fancy, too, <br />Is recomposed<br /><br />Morgan Michaels<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-129/
