Serena Snashtwig...

Warm up three...

http://imprompt.wordpress.com/day-minus-one/

Generated name: Serena Snashtwig,  Use as Title: now write the poem...

Serena Snashtwig...

Made her home in an old hollow willow

embraced the younger trees along the bank

always asking first for this or than loose limb

and made all her furnishings out of young green arms

She might have been human once...

But that was long ago, before she lost sight

Of the castle that only reflected golden sunlight -

Inside the tapestries were frayed and faded

The old flour sacks were beaten by the brook - so many

times in washing that now they seemed as smooth

as spun cotton - She’d made the hem loose so she could

stuff thistle down between the layers when it got cold

Scavenging the forest floor of what was left from

Brother Bear and Sister Fox, she crafted doe-skin slippers

and with her own woven milkweed thread and bird bone needles

she decorated them with the remains of her broken abalone buttons.

There would be no more princes coming this way

Not since the kingdom fell...some old witch seeking vengence

About not being invited to her birth, that is if she remembered

The old stories that were once told...

©JP/davh