Poem -
The Tempest
Warlock gnarls hands ladened with gold,
Gnarled like his twisted cane of spectacular roots.
Heavens roar and shiver in anticipation while
Tides respond with a Dance of Anger.
A golden-haired lass giggles with glee.
What silly tantrum can this be?
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Comments
This could be from a forgotten page, torn from the Edda.
Magical!!
J ;)