I wandered through the sleepless wood.
The moon, my friend, my trusted guide
Said naught, and I, my grief to hide
Walked mute to where the elf-maid stood.
Her purpose grim, that few men sought
Was hidden by her placid smile.
Her midnight sword of murder vile
She held in still, reflective thought.
And 'neath her downy cloak of dark
Lay hid a tunic, purest white
That blood her sword would spill tonight
Could never stain, could never mark.
I bowed my greeting, spoke my name
And waited for her quiet gaze,
Which glinted in the moon's wan rays,
To fall upon my empty frame.
"Thou hast lost all," I heard her say,
Then raised my blade and struck to kill,
But she was gone, her sword's black chill
Had pierced my heart, my grief to slay.
My life flowed freely from my chest.
My legs gave slowly to the ground.
My lips her gentle smile had found.
My loss erased, I found my rest.
© 2003 Virge
The above poem is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters (alive or dead) described in the above poem and characters portrayed in electronically manipulated photographs is purely speculative.