After the White Frost

Spiring ash down dreamy hills
 past sparkling waters, Tir ná Lia drifts
 slowly, softly, silently
 into oblivion
 
 Sage lips blacken, frosted bones quiver.
 
 Before an ice-bound eye can blink
 In distant skies I will watch your descent.
Category:The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Category:Books