The Campfire

You walk through a dark path leading to an area with a light glow, as you step nearer you notice that the light comes from a camp fire with many people, elves, gnomes and other spirits sitting around it, happily drinking, eating and telling of the great tales of their lives. One woman especially stands out, the one you saw before, with the emerald green eyes, though she is now wearing a light blue, cotton dress. She beckons for you to sit down and listen to the tales and poems of wandering mistrels and brave knights.

"These are poems, written by friends, relatives, or from books I enjoy. If you have any works you would like put here, then send them to ashchan@metacrawler.com, as I will be most happy to add them to my lonely page."

"Untitled"

She sits down by the cold water

A single swan swims by.

She contemplates death,

Would it be worth to die?

A hand on her shoulder.

A reassuring smile.

A good friend and a warm heart,

Death would not touch for a while.

Ash

back to the forest

Again, thank you for your patience. I am working hard to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my poems and stuff. I need to find someone who knows what they are doing! sheesh.

---

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page