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The Song.

Date Written: September 4, 2017

The elf gently plucked a song from the melody tree.  The branches were ancient, white and gnarled.  It was such a simple song about knights three.  A dark raven cawed and a black dog snarled. The grim men of war were covered in blood and gore.  Their womenfolk were weaping sad salty tears.  A warrior king was demanding loyal and far more.  His newly hired wizard was attempting to magic fears away.  While the poor commonfolk labour and then die.  An ancied bent back preacher prayed for peace hidden in a drainage ditch.  The song made the soft-hearted elf wanr to cry.  As a moonless starless night turned from violet to pitch.


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John Critchley

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