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Description
" Sometimes I thought of that Birch grove, shining like moonstones kissed by moonlight.
Often I thought of her,
when I was alone in the forest.
Sometimes I thought I heard her voice,
like melodious echo, carried by the wind, singing behind me,
and turned around swiftly,
but saw no more than opalescent sheen flickering on slender and graceful birch trees.
But now and then I felt her eyes on me, gray and bright as crystals in the creek, while water rushes over
and pale sun strikes them, revealing precious colors.
But it`s too late now...
In the old Sidhe-tales, when people go inside fairy`s dun and then return,
they rarely go back.
And it`s often two hundred years.
How can I possibly find my way back?..."

acrylic sketch from my Celtic sketchbook

Description
" Sometimes I thought of that Birch grove, shining like moonstones kissed by moonlight.
Often I thought of her,
when I was alone in the forest.
Sometimes I thought I heard her voice,
like melodious echo, carried by the wind, singing behind me,
and turned around swiftly,
but saw no more than opalescent sheen flickering on slender and graceful birch trees.
But now and then I felt her eyes on me, gray and bright as crystals in the creek, while water rushes over
and pale sun strikes them, revealing precious colors.
But it`s too late now...
In the old Sidhe-tales, when people go inside fairy`s dun and then return,
they rarely go back.
And it`s often two hundred years.
How can I possibly find my way back?..."

acrylic sketch from my Celtic sketchbook