Book of Poetry & Intresting/Favorite Quotes

Forge

Forge

A peace of steal thrust

into the flames,

the blade starts to change color

ending at a cherry red,

it is pulled from the forge

laid onto the the shaping stones,

the hammer comes down,

smacking the cherry steel,

sparks fly

as the sword is forged,

smack by smack,

it takes shape being created,

back into the fire, into the eager flames,

they lick its side

warming

they are the mother,

the hammer is the father,

it is born of fire and water into the water it goes

to hold its shape is the waters job,

the sword is a child now

dull to the touch,

it is one last time cooled

the steam rises into the air

a cloud to the next part of creation,

a sharpening stone it is thrust back and fourth it is rubbed

sharping becoming,

 no longer a helpless child making it

into a weapon,

only the mightiest of warriors

only they may ever touch this blade,

polish shine polish shine

sharp enough to cut air,

the blade is thrust into the scabbard only to ever be

removed when battle is thrust

 on the wearer of the blade,

 never again will it see the forge

never will it be born again

form steel to blade

never again a innocent child