By: Arjan Wardekker
In the mountains' distant lands,
a forgotten tower stands.
Crumbling are the ruin's walls,
hidden by the snow that falls.
Icy wind blows through the pass,
singing tales of what once was.
Dreams of yore, of banners proud,
calls of trumpets, singing loud.
Shards of stone, naught more adheres,
falling like a fossil's tears.
Once, the sun still shone as new,
white walls in the morning dew.
Proud a lord, yet few in years,
slain by friends and bound in fears.
From the burning tower thrown,
with the lord all life had flown.
Cloaked in snow, the tower sighs,
in it's halls the raven lies.
Will it see a life anew,
will a day the night ensue?
Ravens on their quest embark,
making nests of birches' bark.
Still, their cries bring little shade,
with the years the hope does fade.
A promise of a bard's tale,
once shimmered through the sands' veil.
Tower turns to stand and wait,
could it choose another fate?
written on: 22-07-2006, 23-07-2006, 24-07-2006, 26-07-2006, 27-07-2006, and 28-07-2006
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