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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #2260639
A demon is commanded to release his slave from the bondage of death
The tortured trees loom overhead
And sullen blackness leers at me
A trap for every wary tread
As I creep past the grasping dead
And stumble at insanity

Aronwen’s haunted garden waits
Her prison for so many years
I fumble at the prison gates
That seal our joint and common fates
I am half blinded by my tears

I set my spell-book on the ground
And with my quill inscribe her name
Aloud I speak the fearful sound
I call the demon, horror-bound,
And then ignite the sacred flame

He comes, and bound by light and spell
He brings Aronwen back to me
In anger he will curse and yell
And seek to draw me down to Hell
Because my love has set her free

I cast him out; to Hell he goes
He leaves his gruesome pumpkin grin
Now free at last, Aronwen glows
Full bright, and sparkles as she flows
To heaven, freed from death and sin.

Quintilla, 25 lines
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