Avenged

by: Autumn

Whispering willows tell the tale,

Of a mistress of the air,

She lies in rest in her cave by day,

But at night she tickles the clouds.

As the sun slowly sinks to its nightly rest,

The mistress now arises,

Her wings slice through the chilling breeze,

hardly making a sound.

A tiny village awakes to the sound,

of a maiden crying out,

"The demon of the night is here!"

And fainting on the spot.

Her pale, yellow eyes glow strangely bright,

in the enveloping darkness,

And torches are lit to scare away,

the swooping, evil demon.

She circles the village, unsure of herself,

and the angry mob below her,

"Death to the demon!" they cry,

And she knows now what she must do.

The mistress of the air tkaes a final breath

and like a burst of energy

plummets to the first thatched roof

Scorching and grabbing her prize.

Angry cries are heard through the night,

Yet the mistress hears them naught,

Another token to her hoard,

And her brother is avenged.

Every day she weeps for him,

but still he eternal slumbers,

Those villagers that took his life,

Will have naught an easy slumber.

A mistress of the air is she,

A demon of the night perhaps,

Or just a lonely soul that sleeps,

A dragoness is many things.

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