deepundergroundpoetry.com

Willow

 

My thoughts return to a village pub and two frosty mugs of ale.
Half the draft was payment for a chance to hear a tale.
One looked more in need of drink and someone’s ear to lend.
Until the final drop of brew I’d stay a strangers friend.
His soulless sunken eyes revealed the truth in every word.
Still to this day his story be the most amazing ever heard.
“An illness once held this town,“ He spoke with a distant gaze.
“Restless sleep ruled our nights and misery gripped the days.
Not all were touched but those that were hopeless were their fate.
I found a way but for my wife the answer came too late.
But not so for my only child a chance for her remained.”
The labored penance welled a sadness that he could not restrain.
In his pause he gulped some courage I took a sip as well.
His manor leant the worst to come of what I could not tell.
“Far back into the northern woods a witch lived all alone.
In my arms I carried my ailing daughter to her forest home.
I begged for magic, a potion pled, I prayed she’d cast a spell.
Her price I’d pay how ever high to make my daughter well.
“The cost,” she said, “ shall be your strength to let your child go.
The cure is why and when you see then you both shall know.”
I felt the ebbing tide of life drain from my sweet young child.
“Do as I say.” The witch softly spoke unknowingly she smiled.
With map in hand I found the stream just as the witch had said.
Among the cattails and tall grass I made for her a bed.
I waited for the cure to come as I watched a dragonfly.
Upon her cheek it settled down then I saw it die.”
He wiped the tears that wet his cheek and took a final drink.
We sat in silence for a moment he took this time to think.
“Before my eyes a change occurred to my little child.
Still the girl I’ve always loved but now a creature of the wild.
A fairy was my daughter’s chance was how her life was saved.
Adorned with grass for camouflage and wings that gently waved.
She woke; she stooped, then flew away into the morning sky.
So sudden was she gone from me, alone I said goodbye.”
Desperation owned his soul cursed without a prayer.
He turned away lost for words I moved to leave him there.
Somewhere out there under magic’s spell our fantasies can live.
It happens not when we take but when it’s our wish to give.
 
Written by midevil
Published
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