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Under the rosegarden's apple tree stood a curious sight,
better yet still did a Tressym take flight
glorious feathers flitting through the leaves
winding through the branches like a cat through attic eaves.
We watched along as the man stood down
and against the dark blue sky, you could see his grey frown
only so clearly on this summer's night
had this man finally begun to accept his plight.
The statue jeered above him like a looming grave
should this man decide to take this deadly wave
"Mystra, I'm sorry, please do forgive me,"
but what yet did the man say to the person just beneath him?
Standing aside like a dreaded evening?
he held the crown pieces like he held my heart, shattered sickly, starkly, pourous in one's arm
and he looked upon my scars with no alarm
no feigned concern, no sickly mewls
just casual indifference
or a quick-to-tears fuse.
Who knew at this point, as he turned away
looking on into the dim sunrise's deadly rays
"goodbye, my land, goodbye, my sea," he took in a deep breath almost dreamily
it was almost blinding, for better or for worse
as I could not see it as he was bestowed the curse.