The
Wandering Wraith
By
Treeheart
A
Wraith waned in its wandering way,
And
wafted down to where,
The
disembodied met to play,
Winged
whimsy to ensnare.
Winged
whimsy to ensnare.
The
wan Wraith wondered at their wit,
Watched
weirded weapons fall,
She
wizened to the thrill of it,
And
joined the whispered brawl.
And
joined the whispered brawl.
The
Will o’Wisp saw Wraith one day,
And
whirled around to moan,
"Let’s
don our whited bones to play,
And
climb the Mortal Throne.
And
climb the Mortal Throne."
"Whisht,"
warned Wraith in withered tones,
And
wished the Wisp away.
"I’ll
never don old whited bones,
When
I go out to play.
When
I go out to play.
No
hands, no hearts, no horns, no hair,
No
well-appointed moan,
Will
tie me to the Throne of Care,
And
desiccated stone.
And
desiccated stone."
The
Will o’ Wisp and Wraith did stay,
To
whirl amidst the Wild.
They
whanged their wondrous whips of fey,
And
weildy weapons piled.
And
weildy weapons piled.
Just
one hillock winded round,
With
weapons weathered neath,
The
Wicked World of mortal bound
Can
find upon the heath.
Can
find upon the heath.
POETRY
WATERFALL
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