If and whenever,
thinking herself endowed with clever,
discovering the truth
was more bitter than lies,
the threadbare she owned
was but rusted metal,
the sword she was impaled upon.

What they didn't know,
what her mind outside didn't show,
was her precious secret,
for though the past smoldered,
and the future promised cold,
in the present
she controlled the weather.

©July 2022
Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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