Song of Fable

Silence but for the wind,

through golden fields whisper

There are no trumpet fanfares

No angelic choirs

To announce the victorious king.


Sunshine, blinding, sharp

did not glint off the armor of the rider,

strong and fast, who charged across the field.

And there were monsters where no windmills stood.


The same breeze that bent the grain

Also had bent the sea

There were no proud and tall-masted ships

sailing through the clouds as though they were ocean


Forests in the distance, dark and contrasting

in this field of amber.

But there was no music, of flute or voice,

and no unnatural laughter

to alert others to the revelry.

But then, we do not know the ways of the Folk.


Soft, there grazes a doe,

Dipping her head gently and smoothly.

When she stood again, there was no shining silver mane

or thin, graceful horn from her head.


Above the tree tops, there was naught to see

but the occasional flight of sparrows.

There were no tower spires with snaking flags,

No ladies fair of gentle breeding,

Waiting on true love to begin life.


Nothing but amber wheat fields and sun.

There is no story but those we make,

There are no riders, ships or towers,

And yet we know what it is to dream.




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MaHensley8706
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Synopsis
A short poem from College creative writing class, when we had to write about something that simply wasn't.
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