Midwood in autumn moon
Dawning upon silver dew
Shimmering like fireflies
And golden leaves from up high
Striding up to me
The lady of goldenwood
In shrouds of pearls and palest white
Though she bears the mark of the wilds
She is the queen of her kind
Sung by flutes of ivory
Notes soar round the elder tree
Stairs ascending to far up high
Where golden leaves kiss the sky
The lady of goldenwood
In shrouds of pearls and palest white
Though she bears the mark of the wilds
She is the queen of her kind
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
Sign in to post the first listener note. Reporting stays open to everyone.