Unfading

I was tired. I was cranky. And for some odd reason school wasn't helping that. Monday I had about 4 hours to finish a three paragraph paper for my IEW writing assignment. For those of you who have done IEW then you'll remember the "writing from pictures" where you have three pictures that correspond with each other and one paragraph is supposed to correspond to one of the pictures. Well, the three pictures I had basically looked like the story of Daniel in the lion's den. There was a guy in armor, an old man, and a lion. 

Well, finally cranking up my determination and picking a coarse of action, I wrote the below. 

Unfading

By Willa Howard

Upon the charming Isle of Airrenate,

Past the guards and past the gate,

Down through the streets and lanes,

Past the storehouses of summer’s grain,

 A house stands tall and straight.

 

There upon the wooden windowsill,

A candle burns with flames a’thrill,

And by it sits a young maiden fair,

With sea blue eyes and golden hair.

There she waits, waiting still.

She sits in patient wait for a man,

For to marry her is his plan,

And so she waits for him to return,

From the battles and concern,

To return to his beloved clan.

One morn on the Isle of Airrenate,

Past the guards and past the gates,

Down through the streets and lanes,

Past the storehouses of summer’s grain,

Down to the house sitting tall and straight,

Came her lover riding, riding, riding.

~*~*~*~

His brazen hair hung in curls,

Cascading down in bushy furls,

His armor blazed in the morning sun,

His sword any wild beast to stun,

His teeth gleaming like snowy pearls.

There at the door her lover reined,

All her love to come and be gained.

Upon his panting chestnut mare,

Up he swept his gold maiden fair,

No more with yearning be pained.

 

The moon hung low that night.

It’s radiance a great ghostly light,

Floating above the roofs with pride,

Smoothly flying on its nightly glide,

Ravens passing over its brilliant light.

                                                         

                                                                Then all at once the enemy struck,

 Invading the town, its peace to pluck,

With flashing swords and shining steel,

Not a speck of mercy did they feel,

Into the helpless town they snuck.

The chariots came in flying, flying, flying.

~*~*~*~

Down they flew through Airrenate,

Past the guards and past the gate,

Down through the streets and lanes,

Past the storehouses of summer’s grain,

To a house standing tall and straight.

The chariots by monstrous lions driven,

All in their path down were stricken,

Roaring, clashing, clawing, screams,

Eyes cold, cruelty, coruscating gleams,

Mercy nor grace none was given.

Up the maiden’s lover leapt,

"Justice," he cried, "must be kept."

And with no kiss to bid her goodbye,

Her lover left with a battle cry,

Never enemies’ victory to accept.

And there on the bloody highway street,

Her true lover death did greet,

With all courage he had met

The enemy onslaught, right to set,

But now none would sing of the feat.

Her lover his last breath was drawing, drawing, drawing. 

 

~*~*~*~

When morn finally shined upon Airrenate,

Dead were the guards, and bloody the gate,

The streets were still, and lanes filled

With all the bodies cold and killed,

Sharp had been the evil knife of fate.

And the golden maiden still,

Waits, waits, for her lover killed,

Yet now in death, her eyes are closed

Blood upon her chest exposed, 

                 Fallen by her true lover stilled.

 

Yet still one flicker of life remains

It can neither see, nor feel pain,

The candle in the windowsill

Burns brightly, brilliantly still,

It’s light flaming amongst the slain.

The candle still is burning, burning, burning.

~The Scribbler in the Attic