the lost song

As a young boy, I wandered late at night
Under covers, quilt, and glowing stars
In a forest wild of a wilder sprite
Sitting on a rock and playing a pipe
I sat in the clearing of a tree ring
Under the sprite’s beating music spell
And it taught me how to make six holes sing
A lost song
I can’t remember.

I still feel the rhythm late at night
Of everything but the wishful aching
For a wooded haunt I’ve now forgot
Where my trapped dreams reflect back to me
Warped by icy rapids in moonlit streams
Whispering songs
I can’t remember.