spéir

no mystic shaman

no elixir from a crone

no burlap voodoo doll

no sword from a stone

only words as crafted sounds

or scratched with a stick

floated intentions

verbal arithmetic

truth is a shadow

a rabbit in a hat

no matter who you are

serf or aristocrat

as she looked down

in wind of silver wings

she had clarity of diamonds

and thought

what silly

little

things

 

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