Wending through the hills,
Remnant of an older time,
An older power.
Older than me,
Older than time,
Older than the hills I stand upon
As I call to you:
Guide me
As I run through the valleys and the forests,
the mazes of life, I am often lost.
Yet you know the way,
You have traveled the path
I wander so many times
The meandering of its convoluted turns
Are mapped in your soft, sinuous curves.
Guide me, I ask of you,
Dragon Back to my poetry page. Back to my writing page Back to my main page rhlannon@hotmail.com
