“he’s coming he’s coming!
wake Jake wake!”
before Jake could wrestle
the rheum from his eyes
he can hear stomping, doors shutting-
he’s here.
–
a shabby tan pointy hat
he tips it with his right.
cabbages and carrots sit atop an olive cloak
staffs peek outside a wimpy carriage
perfect smoke circles
autumn brown pip in his left palm,
he’s here.
–
“and alas, Valen drew
his last arrow
released it through the oil lamp
struck the great ogre, Duarg in his last eye.”
the old wizard chuckled,
he waved his right palm,
and.
the flames we sat around grew,
“Valen set the ‘hole ogre ablaze-
Stonemerr really let ’em have it.
aye, he was just relieved to retrieve his axe from the beast i reckon,
from thee other eye.”
he paused again,
Jake wrestled the growing sweat from his temple
the wizard meets each of our eyes
rose his left hand,
“an that is the battle of Tison,
just outside their neighboring forest”
–
Jake remembers,
the stories his mama used to tell
of the wizard
mostly dressed in brown
in his left hand-
the power of life,
spawn blooming lush like Tison’s forest,
seas deep as the oceans of Sophis,
an his right-
capable of leaving cities in ruins
fire that could cover our village
an more-
–
wizard wizard
where will you go,
as Jake returned to the present,
the wizard
pipe in left,
“i never left you hatchlings”
he raised his right hand-
sweat from Jake’s brow
dripped past his lip.
with the smoke from his pipe
he snuffed the near flames
a gale rose our hats
Jake’s eyes grew
the wizard brought thumb
and finger together,
his right hand
suspended
his eyes paused on mine-
he snapped-
and.
he was gone
Saint's Muse 