Angel of North Star

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Phaeleh “Icarus”

She strode the vale
Astride her steed
She owned the trail
Heeded not the lore imploring
She need be distressed and frail
While deathly pale
Her flesh unveiled
Each feeling preening
Sense prevailed
She strode the vale
For leaps of faith
They never failed

Through leaden hail
She weathered gales
Attuned to blue moon’s tempered scales
Astride her Steinway
Baby grand
The lady played
The lady sang

Sat astride the shaded bank
Wide eyes agape to rays refracted
Having made it safely back
Each daisy in her chain reacted
Every vein stained black
Her sharp
Her flat
Her heart untamed remarked that hers were scars too brave to be made captive

Bleeding the old-fashioned way
In ashen grey
Her passion play
Refashioned from the glazed clay of a fable re-enacted
Centre stage
From tender age
She underwent momentous change
To demonstrate the splendid shape
To face the fate exacted

Trapped within
Impacted skin
No more
She soared
On fractured wing
Heeded not the lore imploring
All before
Be factored into blackening her slackening restraints
To taint the skies she painted
Actioning the traction
To enrapture sight in twilight faded
Masquerading every shade
Sweet serenade enabled
She strode the vale
A decorated angel

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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