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Whispering Pond

Superstition

The night bore frost and the moon was lost
To stalking clouds in the mystic sky,
At the witching hour came a terrible sound,
It was the sound of a battle cry.
 
An aging knight on his trusty steed
Rode to the base of Workman’s Glenn,
A clover meadow with spreading trees
Revered by dragons and loved by men.
 
There they met by the whispering pond,
To be done, or be done in.
Should chivalry die, or dragons that fly,
Would the knight or the dragon win?
 
Flashes of sword were seen in the light
Of the dragons consuming flame
And all drew near at the break of day
To know the victor’s name.
 
Yet, none could see how the battle went,
No dragon or knight was found(?)!
There was no blood, green or red,
Anywhere on the ground.
 
Then sounds of laughter rose from the pond
And whispers were heard, here and there.
The water grew dark and began to boil
As a greenish fog took to the air.
 
 
 
The dragons shivered and solders quaked
And everyone fled the glenn,
Never to return to the whispering pond,
That place that swallows —- dragons and men.
 
D. Thurmond / J.E.F.
Rew. To 2011

(2011)

A fun story of Dragons and Knights, and a POND!

#Mystery

Préféré par...
Autres oeuvres par D. Thurmond Aka Jef (James Everett Falcon)...



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