Yore

The  Skies they were  Volcanic
 The leaves so crisp so ashen
 The trees they were 
 Bare and bitter
The trees Naked and brittle
It was thro the late November
During my most hindered year
Spent down by the lake of Merideth
Where lovers claim Heaven
By the banks of Harbor Bay
The frozen wave of Merideth
The chilling wind of Harbor Bay
Here once I found my soul
Thro the misted woods
I roamed alone 
Through an alley of Oak  
I found my soul 
These were yond
In the days of Yore 
On that day
my soul grew chilling
Spent abruptly by the shore 
On that day in my soul 
There was a yearning 
Spent endlessly by the shore
In the innocent days of yore