|"Druid" by 632Fan|
The stag prince and his thorns
Sat upon the Throne of Horns
His hand upon his stubbled chin.
He looked into the misty sin
That his younger brother had foretold
And contemplated what must be said
For the leaves were growing old
And soon his father, the King, dead.
A soldiers query could submit the eerie:
Shadows in the light, and surrounded by blight,
The death couldn't be any more dreary.
He could quest for the best in all the land
Hiring mercenaries, witchery, and knights,
In hopes of finding the beast of the night
Across that unhallowed hands of sand.
Deep in the crevices of the ground and dirt
Surpassing the fossils and layers of pert
Are the bellows of the deep abyss
Where the haunted river streams called Styx.
There the stag prince could find his key
To the troubles boiling in the kingdom's tree
So entering the light he would try
For his father's soul he would buy.
This is the first part of a new poetic adventure series that I will be writing. Please tell me what you think.