Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2020
It runs through it's masters veins
With a thick consistency that stains
The journeys that it usually takes
Often are in snowy plains
When it stops, it makes chains
Of epic tales that advance our brains
After the centuries it remains
To help us in the quest to obtain
The knowledge we seek to retain
What is it?
Eola
Written by
Eola
  397
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems