Amarantha Françoise Dyuaaxchs
Soppy soft night peat encases a gleaming, A wailing, wondrous dale. The door opens wide. Fires of wining and merrymaking whistle out, Escaping the savoring confines of The halls of the Sidhe.
E-mail me or I'll be forced to make some cardboard wings, attach them to a chemical reaction, and jump off the roof with them! Return to the Poetry page Return to the Duchy