Little silly Sil, she sulked all along
dragging her tiny bow behind,
what would she tell of why she wears shoot
from head to toes, and even her wings
better yet, how would she string those few little words
about the failure she’s been
she didn’t need the old frail frown to tell her the result in the morrow
Sil could not pretend, so she delayed, dragging her feet behind
that she shall wait another while for her own precious Light.
The talk of the South Grape Roots she’d be
and Uncle Gruff, he wouldn’t let her be for failing
on spells and fairy dust.
‘Sil, wait up,’ called, crazy Bel-Beep,
and Sil wanted to run, she didn’t not wish to be made fun off,
Bel-Beep ran up, and skipped, ‘What happened back there?’
Sil shrugged and stepped on faster.
‘I’m sure you’ll get your Light next year!’ Beep chimed,
‘You’re younger than us!’
I’m only young by a month! Sil thought, and crying, ran on home
just in time for the Sun to peer over the vines, and singe only the tip of her wings.
(I dare say there is more coming, thanks to Radhika’s subtle nudge to write more!) 🙂