Midsummer Weatheria Poet Rhyme

A Marble Spell

Dear Ancient Well,
what can your wisdom 
possibly tell
about that marble guy
for whom every lady
her soul would likely sell?

Upon them he'd cast a spell,
turning their bodies into cold stone,
a crystal clear marble
reflecting the skies above.

"Oh dear, my love,
I'm bound to say farewell,
for I, forever and ever,
will belong to hell."

That's what he'd always tell
right after casting his spell
beside his beloved ancient well.

A twisted tale, 
picturing a lad
so cold and yet so frail:
his gaze so unfazed,
yet his clothes quite jaded.

"How could someone not fail
in the attempt to rescue me
from my own mental jail?"

Many answers had yet to be found,
for he was still trapped and question-bound:

"Where is the love of my life?
Someone who'll succeed
to make my cry,
and smile
and feel alive?"

"Is it that outlandish,
for this marble heart of mine,
to desire a rainbow princess as a bride?
Sweet and pink in her attire,
though with a demeanour so wild,
she’d fight against all odds
to stay by my side,
knowing, deep inside her heart,
that she'll never expire."

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