Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The spirit of Iseult cries to the wintry fogs, “Will my Tristan come to me?”, the hazes part and a whispery being moves to take her hand, she recognizes her love in his spirit, she speaks to him “Here you are after the longest time, haven’t you been patient as well?” to which Tristan replies, “Waiting for my beloved is farther than time” they then iridescently sway with each other as the rose and bramble briar are undying for their love.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
The quill is the tongue of my very soul;
         dipped into the ink made of my tears.
           It matters not if my words are thorn to many;
                              This Queen will speak and touch those                    
                                       ­                      special few.
"Though honey is sweet, do not lick it off a briar."
                                                                              -Irish Proverb
Queen Lyn ***

— The End —