Making the Ordinary, Extraordinary
In the silence of the trees,
there a voice speaks to me.
“Child, child, why do you weep?
Where could your parents be?”
Though she looked, she could not see,
and so she said what the problem had to be.
“My parents may no longer hold me,
for they are dead, and now I must flee.
In the castle beyond the trees,
there insurgents await me.”
And so she cried and she would weep,
and then she fell in a swift enchanted sleep,
as the voice felt pity on her,
her tears made him feel as a cur.
I will give her soft sweet dreams,
she`ll have rest granted by a king.
Round the forest
Past the Bigelow tree
There the voice waits for me,
In the silence of the Bigelow trees.
I don`t think this story is quite done yet, what about you guys? Really, though, I want to know your take on this. This is a different style than anything I`ve written before.