Work Text:
You must know that this garden of yours cannot hold me.
The light you see in me is no gentle light
Of the sun, no warmth, no life-giving,
But merely the cold light of the moon reflected
In the wild eyes of a wild creature.
This is what I wished for, long ago:
The strength of a clawed thing untamed;
The strength to live and dream and
Die someday amidst the dying leaves
Of dead winter, a final puff of steaming breath
Blowing pale and free from my blue lips,
Untamed, unclaimed by any master.
And you who would claim to be my saviour
From the cold, my prince, you must know
That a garden is no garden without walls,
And walls are not for me. I will remain
Beyond, in the depths of foliage, the
Shadow of a sunlit leaf, the soft
Moss on the dark side of a tree-trunk.
You will see my eyes gleam in the night,
Hear a rustle,
And when you come to find me you will find
Only the still-warm dent of my nest in the leaves.