the Poet

Her wand, she waves
So majestically.
With an inky tip
She summons forth
Mysterious beings
In enchanted realms.

Her spells tell stories,
Playing with ones mind.
Tales that flow like
Golden, syrupy river
And float so lightly
Like whisps of smoke
Dancing like cheerful youth.
Spells that can mould
Emotions like clay.
Spells that can bring forth
A unique sensation.
Brought only by the magic
Found in her fingers.

But she's being hunted.
The beauty of her magic
Being killed off.
For it is she,
That brought on the uprise.