Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Heros
The card on a table of burning straw,
was wishing to never be turned,
was wishing to never let heard what is saw,
let go the things it had learned.
Faces of people were placed in the deck,
the card was just one of a horde,
boil and toil and trouble in knew,
and stories to cure all the bored.
In the hands of this paper a prophesy fell,
to set lights in the hearts of man,
for the face of a hero was painted in pink,
to save all the world if he can.
The people of Rashad were joyous that day,
when they heard what the card had revealed,
they capered down streets with merry a tune,
oblivious to whom they had kneeled.
A man to lay hope in a dying land,
and bury all evil in flame,
was what they had found in a fearless try,
But now there dancing is done for the night,
and the card lays scribbled in crayon,
when they realized their hero was a child’s prank,
to save all the world if he can.

All copyrights are acknowledged and those remain the property of the owners. Also these pages contain my opinions (unless otherwise specified), and thus, does not reflect the beliefs of others. The Garden of the Black Rose and its related pages are copyrighted (c)1998 by Ivy McKnight .