There is a stranger in the wood 

Her white gown is stolen light 

Monstrous trees bathe in the reflection of her glow 

This is her might 

When the black hood of darkness 

retreats to shadows 

Owls lower their wise heads

The stag-lad kneels in homage 

Only old shape-changer,

Dancers beneath the stars and me 

stood as ice, amazed by her presence. 

She comes to claim on frosty nights the shivering spirits 

and millions of years of starry nights 

Of silent planets bathed in blue light 

the cold moonlight in the fields 

The breeze from a flying swan's wings 

The hush on a frozen lake 

The moon's reflection trapped in ice. 

I found this written on a scrap of paper in the drawer of the computer table, there are many more. But I wanted to write this one up. If you know dad very well it is not easy to read his handwriting, though it was more readable over recent years. This was written during his very joint handwriting stage, so I hope what I have typed does the poem justice and makes sense. 

On the back of the small scrap of paper written in small handwriting are the names of some of dads favourite bands (playlist for one of his compilations). It made me smile. 

That is what I would have typed if I didn't find another piece of paper further down within the drawer. From I can gather it continues the poem written on the scrap of paper, though I believe it was written later on if not a couple of years later. As the handwriting is much more readable and almost completely changed. From 'she comes to claim on frosty nights...' is the second half.