Hallo folks!
Another poem, well, somehow I got bored on Saturday afternoon and this is
the result. Kinda like it. What do you think? Let me know! ;-)

What remained of the Elves...

In silent nights when stars are bright
and when the moon upon the hill
looks down on sleeping land at night
you can still hear them if you will.

When no sound troubles in your ear,
and when you slowly close your eye,
when you stand still you soon might hear
behind the veil where dreams do lie.

The waking world now leave behind.
Sit down on grass and listen well,
then soon your soul will quickly find
old places of which stories tell.

Can you not hear them? Listen now!
And hear their voices in the breeze
and see the star on their king´s brow
Hark! Can you feel how minutes freeze?

Time mustn´t matter to you here,
for if it does you´ll never find
their shapes. They´ll run away and fear
your steps and leave you there all blind.

No, friend. Sit still and now you see
among the meadows there´s a shade
which troubles leaves o´a sleeping tree,
but do not follow, or they´ll fade.

The borderline is hard to cross
for they have left so long ago.
Like little stones a child may toss
They will just leave and not come fro´

Their earnest faces and their hair
is nothing but a timeless shade,
and though you hear their voices fair
It´s just illusions that will fade.

Yes, you might hear them telling tales
of wars, of kings, of Elvendom
Their voices as a nightingales´,
but here no longer is their home.

The last of them have passed away
beyond the sea when magic bright
entwined the world when young the day
of new born joy when passed the night.

Their names are only whispers here
in these loud realms where Men now dwell.
Even their shadows fly in fear
but still their voices stories tell

to them, whose ears are eager still
to listen to their whispered word
they might at times tell at their will
of things that no Man ever heard.

And they might tell of citadells
that their own kindred built of stone.
They left the shores where noone dwells
now any longer. And their mourn

will fill the air for those who can
still hear the Elven Maiden´s call
in our days, ere rivers ran
that we can see. Before their fall

they were the Lords and they were fair
and proud their kings, but they have passed
away beyond the veil of air
and time, and none their deeds can last.

For in our days the dark´ning skies
are veiled and noise entwines our lifes.
And all the people call it lies
if one will tell of Elven strifes,

or horns that thundered, swords that rang
against the darkness long ago.
The tales of Elves and bows that sang
will just be answered with a "No"

Alas! The times have changed, are gone
and others came to rule the land.
The rivers changed their float and run
through lands where magic´s not at hand.

So, see the only way you can
still see the veiled and fading past
is list´ning to the voice that ran
amidst the leaves. This voice will last.

For wind and whisper, sound and spell
are there in meadow, leaf and grass.
For these are still the ones that tell
The tales of ancient folks that pass...