His muse lost her grace,
Upon a rope, the bridge she couldnot cross.
His death she couldnt stand to face.
Madness revealed, the broken girl lets sleeping fairys lie.
A true friend by and by,
Does tell her of evil's greed.
And of how her love be free'd.
Those lost seen and found,
The tents burning to the ground.
Our heroine, though with iron heart,
Must face herself, in the battle to start.
An end is near, and thy bespelled audience can only hope,
Mayhap the Sidhe will cross this rope.
--------------------------------------------
I am a little nervous about how this turned out. DistantDreamer, I can only hope you like this poem, my little attempt at putting your genius to poet's song.
I eagerly await the next chapter.
YOU ARE READING
Imitations of Immortality
PoetryPoety. I guess that makes me a poetess, or a Lady Poet. They both sound funny. I like to be called storyteller, world-builder, bard. I tell stories in epics, and legends in rhyme. They are all futile attempts, as it is merely clumsy poet's song. Tho...
