Blogging Poetry

The Silver Lady, Pure and Fated


The Silver Lady judged us lacking,

Yet swaddled us tightly. Her wrappings,

Warm and just, snug, fairly entrapping.

Shield against those forces attacking.

The Gold Lady begged her boon that day,

“Sister, assist where you can enter the fray.”

The Silver Lady, pure and fated,

Raised her shield, our shining palisades.

“Begone, you foul Forgotten Horrors!

The beasts recoiled. Gold, Silver auras,

Burned away their eyes and Blackened Hearts.

Push back The Horrors, Forgotten, Dark.

© CGT, 2017.

About Obol

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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