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Word Weaver: Scottish Lore
 
On nights like this
the old women
speak
of the maid
that lost her soul

As the winds
howl through the valley
and the fog
begins to roll

She
wanders
through the heather
Till
reaching the craggy peek

Hiding
from the anger
his mark
left on her cheek

Once laughter
filled her heart
and
echoed thought the glen

Her eyes
blue sapphires
shined

Now
the fire
has died within

Her innocence
and
faith

The weavers words unwove

Stripping her bare
of all

till
all that was left
was her soul

That tiny spark of life
a burning jewel
to behold

Was
all the weaver fancied
for his had long grown cold

*****

Beware
the
intoxication

Of words

Like
honey
dripping
from the tongue

Whispering sensual
enchantments

Enticing
the imagination
to run

Golden hues of wonder

The Weavers
words
dance
before your eyes

As the Weaver
hunts
for souls
to keep his
fire alive



'Anything Goes' challenge
for Renee

By seelie

© 2018 seelie (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - with renoir (Renee) read challenge page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)


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