This poem speaks to my soul! Amazing prose from the Dragon’s Lair and my friend, Wendy Anne Darling!!! WOW!
The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones
Anarion Jones, with her dark hair flying
Walks Welsh mountainsides on tiptoe,
As if she purely skims this Earth
Yet never touches it.
Dreaming of flying, her long skirt rustling,
like a flurry of autumn leaves
She bathes in banks of daffodils
Their sun-warmed scent like perfume on her silken skin.
Here, she is herself, far from the fury of the fighting,
The joy of life surrounds her like a cloak.
The distant screams of swords and men
Are swallowed whole, an offering to the wind.
Nobody comes here; she is alone, she thinks
Yet, today, amongst the breezes, lies a presence.
Something different in her usual world
Something warm, mysterious.
“Be not afraid, my little one.”
A lilting voice speaks softly in the listening air
And eyes, the size of dinner plates,
Blink back at her from cover of a bush.
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