This topic contains 1 reply, has 1 voice, and was last updated by Lela 9 months, 1 week ago.
I finished the poem:
His duty clear from early life,
He charged ahead through pain and tears,
Carving a world free from strife,
And bringing light to those enslaved.
Fatal flaws he was not without,
But the Maker’s strength kept him strong.
When the time came, he had no doubt,
The Maker, in heav’n, awaited him.
Staring into the eyes of death,
He took the stone from wolfish hands
And, taking in a final breath,
Watered the seeds of Anniera.
He’d walked the road the Maker set,
Following his grey fangéd ward.
This final act with love he met,
His mind echoed, “Protect! Protect!”
-Kate, 12-year-old fan, writer (now poet, I suppose)
Good job Kate, I really like your poem.