The crystal sat upon the shelf.
Meanwhile, Cerulean Ocean Elf
Osiris, searching for a jewel
Magnificent enough that Bwll,
The Duchess of the Fifteenth Sea,
Would marry him so he could be
The honored duke of Flyllwyndyll,
Remembered that he'd left the pill
To drug the guardian of the door
At home upon his cabin floor
Beneath his stacks of maps and clothes.
Undaunted by this gaffe he chose
To raise the flap and sneak inside
The fortress. Suddenly he spied
The hulking menace, jaws agape.
Saliva pooled while labelled nape
Declared Fidelus, he who slept.
With pounding heart, the Sea Elf crept
Around the beast. Then, with spry power,
He alighted past the flowers,
Blooming though decapitated
In their tomb of glass. He waited
For his heart to slow, then reached
his hand out to the glow that emanated
From the jewel, the crystal
With which he would rule. Yes, all
The Flyllwyndyllians would praise
Their Duke, and statues to him raise.
A lid blinked wide, the Faithful One
Surveyed his realm with nose and eye,
An unfamiliar scent... and lo!
A hand outstretched towards Master's prize!
A blast of sound assaulted deft
Osiris. Stunned, he almost left
The shelf without the crystal. Back
He turned and reached into his pack,
But fumbled as he freed the sphere.
It tumbled, bounced, and landed near
That cabinet which housed such brittle,
Precious, useless things. Spittle
Flew, Fidelus pounced and snapped,
The neon-yellow orb was trapped,
His elfin lure had saved the day!
(Until momentum had its say)
A thud, a whack, a tinkling chorus,
Treasures fell, descending towards a
Terminal cacophony.
The crystal too sang out with glee
As it was freed from its temporal
Prison.
Shards adorned floral
Fragments.
Guard and thief bereft,
Fidelus whimpered,
Osiris left.
The crash had made me run to see
The source of such calamity.
I found poor Fido looking down,
A tennis ball was on the ground.
Then you arrived, and I confess
It looked like we had made the mess.
But now I hope that you'll agree
The culprit lives beyond the sea.
Yo, K-dog, you need a job and this poem needs some pictures. You want some scratch, you know what to do.
ReplyDelete