Before the bridge, a familiar pain
begins where the blade had been
a year ago today. Some wars were
won, the end has begun, and kin
keep pace to make sure I’m okay.
I look to from face to face, friend
friend and try to smile. Too soon
my thoughts grow dark and bend
toward a dead eye. Now I know:
The witch-king’s haunting will never end.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...