I have been composing more poetry lately. It's solstice season and that always makes me nostaligic. Maybe if I practice, I will be able to write a decent ballad for the princess...
Lament of the North
Little bird, shy bird, call away
Wars of tomorrow.
Mara sings softly with her Northern lilt
Sweeping over my skin.
Little bird, knowing bird, call away the
Fields of hate.
My governess wanders about the room,
Not walking,
But drifting across the floor gracefully,
Her long lavender skirt following her without a sound.
Little bird, lonesome bird, send away the
Moons of sorrow.
Our own moon shines calmly through the open window,
Leaving playful shadows on the stone floor.
Little bird, tragic bird, send away the
Fears of late.
She has sung this lullaby to me
For as long as I can remember,
As she sang to
My mother, my siblings,
As she will sing to
My sons.
Little bird, fallen bird, keep the
Angers of the morning.
My eyes close,
Hiding her mesmerizing dance from thought.
Little bird, gracious bird, steal away
My tears of longing.
My dreams crash like sullen waves
On my consciousness,
All tainted with the tunes of Mara’s voice.