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crownen meets a dryad

a poetic romance

By cosette alizePublished about a year ago 2 min read
1
crownen meets a dryad
Photo by Joe Dudeck on Unsplash

a song in the air as sweet as a pea

on lips of a man: sir Crownen was he

green ferns in his hair, light step in his boot

with bright ruddy cheeks, hands strumming a lute

his eyes were as light, as sycamore trees

and words of his tongue, they flowed like the breeze

and Crownen he walked, past rivers so blue

the dirt crunched beneath, a sparrow near drew

the tune on his tongue, the rippling air

it caught the bird’s ear, the music so fair

he drew further in, past bustling bees

on old forest path, through old forest trees

a tree spirit fair, she caught his sweet words

words deep as sorrow, and joyful as birds

the maiden’s soft heart, was drawn towards the sound

she made herself flesh, her beauty unbound

up Crownen he leaped, his heart fluttered light

the lady like birch, so tall and so white

a smile like silk, hair flowing as seas

her neck was a tow’r, her skin winter freeze

in Crownen his throat, within rose a tune

for the lady fair, her beauty rare hewn

‘most surely’ he thought, ‘no mortal is she’

‘but made herself skin, and naught did she flee’

‘a tree yet a lass, a leaf dwelling near’

‘with grace she looks on, towards me she looks dear!’

so open his mouth, and song spouted forth

like leaf twined with dirt, a branch laced with birth

and spirits around, they all turned their gaze

to birch maiden fair, and Crownen’s song raised

and love bound their hearts, the spirit and man’s

she joined in the song, for great length it ran

until the oak spoke, pleased at the sweet sound

he called for their word, by contract be bound

so wed they became, and Formyeh he laughed

the joy His children, the music they craft

and blessed them with throats, like no mortal had

and flesh was she made, He called her Dryad

to Lowen they went, and there did they dwell

in peace they built home, no evil befell

their lives intertwined, with tune of great trees

and children came forth, they all sang in ease

Lowen the valley, the fertile green home

the land where a tree and a man did roam

nature poetrylove poems
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About the Creator

cosette alize

I write stories, because I live a story. No fantasy world will ever compare to the one we live in. I want to describe our world in a way that reveals the Creator's magic, and write fantasy world's in a way that illuminates our reality.

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Comments (1)

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  • Emily Dickersonabout a year ago

    This is so lovely and sweet and magical. Immediate 🤍 without hesitation.

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