The day the stars cried: Worgleschnortzkopf. The year had passed from old to new He sat outside for a while contemplating It was cold; Jacomo had been dancing again Leaving his tell tale signs of his footsteps Frozen crystals of water making patterns On windows and ponds. Delicate patterns like lacey wing Highlighting spider webs on hawthorn bush Turning them to ice creations joyously Lit by lunar rain and cosmic kiss. Worgle s gaze passed over the Wylde wood Enjoying the shadows of trees less trees Noting the paths that only the woodland creatures knew He felt safe in this part of Wylde wood Deep in its heart was his home in the oak The big people never came this deep Kept out by tales of myth and legend An invisible wall of bogles and ghosts Branches on high swayed gently At this time of dark most creatures Would be curled up asleep Except the sleepers who would not be seen Until the bluebells rang again. He heard brock snuffling in the leaf fall Reynard the dandy fox would saunter by And spikey the hedge pig on stumpy legs In search of worms and peice of fallen fruit. Sighing contentedly he turned to go in When out of the corner of his eye He caught a glimpse of streaking light The dark night sky was filled with streaks As light beams shot across his sight Hundreds and hundreds began to shoot to earth Worgle smiled to himself Even the stars cry at this beautiful world And then he went happy to bed. Andrew Mcintyre 8/11/13 4:32pm.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 15:23:13 +0000
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