One for sorrow, a phantom alone,
A single feather and a hollowed bone.
It circles the fields where the lost are found,
And carries the silence of a burial ground.
Two for joy, yet joy may sting,
A fleeting light on a fragile wing.
Their chorus rings where darkness bloom,
A wedding song for the open tomb.
Three for a girl, a fate foretold,
Wrapped in shadows, fragile and cold.
Her cradle sways where the candles weep,
And voices coil her restless sleep.
Four for a boy, with storm-worn hair,
Born to wander, born to scare.
The wind bends low to trace his path,
And whispers linger in aftermath.
Five for silver, a thief’s cold prize,
Stolen from sockets of staring eyes.
Coins from a crypt, a ring from the slain,
All glittering trinkets with traits of pain.
Six for gold, the devil’s seed,
Fire and famine, hunger and greed.
It blinds the seeker, devours the soul,
Offering plenty, the price of control.
Seven for a secret that festers and burns,
Locked in the dark where no one returns.
It rots in the marrow, it sleeps in the skin,
A curse on the heart that carries it in.
Eight for a wish, but beware what you crave,
For wishes may open the door to a grave.
The tongue may plead, the stars may hear,
Yet gifts from the night are never that clear.
Nine for a kiss, but bitter the taste,
A mouthful of ashes, a love laid waste.
It lingers like smoke on the lips of the lost,
A promise remembered, whatever the cost.
Ten for the bird you cannot miss,
A haunting call, both dark and bliss.
It waits on the boundary, where all beginnings end,
No foe, no lover, no ghost, no friend.