Out into the storm
Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2013 5:47 pm
Last week I ventured out in the storm,
leaving my beloved where it was dry and warm.
He wanted to stay out of the cold and snowy air,
but I can’t resist having the wind in my hair.
With me I took Blackie, a faithful hound,
into the snow we went with a bound.
The strong wind blew us to a park,
which I thought was the perfect place to have a lark.
While we cavorted like squirrels gone berserk,
Blackie froze and with his ears perk
‘d up he sniffed for danger in the night.
I immediately looked about ready to fight.
Over the wind I chanced to hear,
a friendly voice that put all end to fear,
singing in a tongue long forgotten,
except in a few dusty tomes rottin’
on dusty shelves of ancient lore,
in a musty little rare bookstore.
The gifts of the Fey I could list each,
but what matters is I understand their speech.
As I stood listening through the blow,
I heard this elf sing of his love for snow.
I listened to him sing it through then once more begin,
smiling wide, on his second chorus I joined right in.
The cheerful sprite didn’t miss a single note,
but instead lead me in the song he’d wrote.
As we came near the end of his cheery melody,
he appeared from the snow in front of me.
Recognizing a fellow soul that loved the cold,
he asked me to dance if I felt so bold.
Without hesitation I extended my hand to the sprite,
taking no heed of the chill winter’s night.
Through the snow we jigged and spun,
‘till our merry course was run.
With a bow and a curtsey we did part,
for I had to return to where I’d left my heart.
So as the merry puck vanished into the winter fog,
I set out for home with my dog.
It was late and time to rest,
in the arms of the man I love best.
Take a lesson from me that come what may,
don’t forget about home when you dance with the Fey.
Their merriment is intoxicating, rich and divine,
but is nothing compared to a lover who calls you ‘Mine.’
Hannah
leaving my beloved where it was dry and warm.
He wanted to stay out of the cold and snowy air,
but I can’t resist having the wind in my hair.
With me I took Blackie, a faithful hound,
into the snow we went with a bound.
The strong wind blew us to a park,
which I thought was the perfect place to have a lark.
While we cavorted like squirrels gone berserk,
Blackie froze and with his ears perk
‘d up he sniffed for danger in the night.
I immediately looked about ready to fight.
Over the wind I chanced to hear,
a friendly voice that put all end to fear,
singing in a tongue long forgotten,
except in a few dusty tomes rottin’
on dusty shelves of ancient lore,
in a musty little rare bookstore.
The gifts of the Fey I could list each,
but what matters is I understand their speech.
As I stood listening through the blow,
I heard this elf sing of his love for snow.
I listened to him sing it through then once more begin,
smiling wide, on his second chorus I joined right in.
The cheerful sprite didn’t miss a single note,
but instead lead me in the song he’d wrote.
As we came near the end of his cheery melody,
he appeared from the snow in front of me.
Recognizing a fellow soul that loved the cold,
he asked me to dance if I felt so bold.
Without hesitation I extended my hand to the sprite,
taking no heed of the chill winter’s night.
Through the snow we jigged and spun,
‘till our merry course was run.
With a bow and a curtsey we did part,
for I had to return to where I’d left my heart.
So as the merry puck vanished into the winter fog,
I set out for home with my dog.
It was late and time to rest,
in the arms of the man I love best.
Take a lesson from me that come what may,
don’t forget about home when you dance with the Fey.
Their merriment is intoxicating, rich and divine,
but is nothing compared to a lover who calls you ‘Mine.’
Hannah