This is my choice of title for the following prompt
Secreted high from eyes to see,
The pale face of a child peeps,
Warm wood enfolds her tenderly,
Silently, she bows her head and weeps.
Tears like rain trickle down below,
Cascade in colours subdued and sad,
Reflections cast from the rainbow
Remembering times and joys once had.
Now alone, and called by moonlight
She says nought, but watches all,
Some say she’s the Guardian of Night,
Protector of Innocents with her Nightingale’s call.
She is a Child of the Wondering Moon,
Her presence as mystic as her name,
Taken from Mother Earth too soon,
Like a moth attracted to a flame.
For every tear, a life is spared,
Regardless of creed or age,
The autumn winds caress her hair,
Stripping the world of Evil’s rage.