In the light of day,

I see you,

spectral showers frame your skin

and the ghosts of our past,

silent, quiet, here

on the Scottish hillside

overlooking the future

with uncertainty  and framed by cold winters,

if only they had listened to our unspoken

warning, then we would have not heard

the quiet stealth of a killer

approaching us

from the skies.

In the light of day,

oh my darling, dance with me

as we become

blinded

and then,

much like our melancholic memories,