CHAOS

By:- Greg Richards

She ran, hair coursing, wind-borne, wild-eyed, wicker wielding,
Through the bough broken, twig torn, leaf wrenched,
Storm struck, Forests core.
In the roiling cauldron of her heart,
A thunderous vortex brewed,
Magic mimed the spell the words would not weave,
A chant to free her heart.
This knight in shining armour held it tight,
Faerie bane, in painful grip of Iron.


The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author.

Advertisements

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s