poem #31

the moon

he was like the moon,
cold and distant - 
but always within reach.
she would watch him
from the bottom of her well.
she often heard laughter
echoing through her chamber.
the stone walls that encircled
glistened with blue light;
small comfort.
she would sometimes sing;
that unsettled him,
shattering his illusions
of a perfect world.
the rope had been cut - 
long ago.
she knew it had been him.
the neglected forest,
wild and overgrown,
kept her a secret - 
never to be found.

poem #26

sprite

i walked the lonely woods at night,
and came across a pixie.
he was so small, his hair was bright,
his appearance rather tricksy. 

he flashed a mischievous, sprite like grin,
and beckoned me come forward.
i walked to him, my mind made dim,
and did just as he ordered.

he pointed to a fallen tree,
and asked me to inspect it.
i looked and saw, to my surprise,
it was not as i expected.

the tree was not a tree at all,
but a giant soundly sleeping.
i turned to see the imp was gone,
and this would be my ending.