Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015

The shaman held the vial near
it trickled slow into the glass
A'shimmering this welcomed tear
as precious moments came to pass

He shook it slow with tempered stroke,
the gem, his staff, once more did glare
Again the incantation spoke,
an emerald glow was everywhere

“Return this beauty to her form
of daisy rush and willow feel
To cleanse the soul of poisoned storm
and sorrows cast as to reveal”

The sun now but an empty trace,
a fainter amber light is found
As nightfall rushes to the place
above horizon’s silent ground

Another drop, his fingertips,
then quickly her mouth he did lean
To place upon the tender lips
of this, the kingdom’s precious queen

He feared this might have come too late
as others in the room agreed
Yet not with words, but quiet wait
their silence floats on hoped for deed

This staff, its light begins to dim,
the healer breathes in heavy sighs
“I fear, I fear, we have lost him,
indeed our king this hour dies”

When then a flickered lash does flow,
another comes as if to thrive
As now her eyes they opened slow,
*once more, their queen has come alive
Written by
Please log in to view and add comments on poems