Arrow! Ah, a string, a bow:
Arranged along my hand just so.
Quiver, quiver--bowstring crack!
Shimmer, bowstring, forth and back.
Liquid speed, rude wings alight:
Which demon drives my arrow's flight?
Which dream could guide my arrow home?
Which dream, when arrows fly alone?
He's tumbling... quarry! Mumbling gore,
Stumble, snort... ah, quarry. Fall.
My arrow dreams of flying, I
Dream only of with whom it dies.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
Arrow! Ah, a string, a bow:
Arranged along my hand just so.
Quiver, quiver--bowstring crack!
Shimmer, bowstring, forth and back.
Liquid speed, rude wings alight:
Which demon drives my arrow's flight?
Which dream could guide my arrow home?
Which dream, when arrows fly alone?
He's tumbling... quarry! Mumbling gore,
Stumble, snort... ah, quarry. Fall.
My arrow dreams of flying, I
Dream only of with whom it dies.
First new one in nearly a year, sorry for absence and I hope your adventures have been poetic
