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Kikajon

Bumping for TWOW V4

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The Winds of Winter warn us
to stay beneath the ground
where icy air can't harm us
and Others can't be found.

For death and worse is stalking
upon the frigid top,
and fear restricts our talking
of when the Winds will stop.

A generation last time
is what the old wives said.
When freezing is a pastime
there's no rest for the dead.

The bravest souls are trying
to vanquish our cold foes
in black clad, they're defying
the source of chest-high snows.

And if they fail, I wonder
how long before we too
from life are torn asunder?
What then will Night's King do?

Return to frozen hellscape
with no one left to kill?
Forge a crown of bell-shape,
and rest on Aegon's Hill?

Such thoughts are not worth thinking
while hope remains alive.
But like our food, hope's shrinking;
no children here can thrive.

A drink before it's empty
to cheer us for the day.
A toast to Dawn forthcoming.
We beat them once, they say.

A message down was managed,
it says to stay below:
our forces have advantage
but the bitter Winds still blow.

A Dream of Spring (sore splintered)
sustains us for we know
the piercing Winds of Winter
some day must cease to blow.
 

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6 minutes ago, Lady Blizzardborn said:

Nobody liked the poem I guess.

On the contrary, I thought it was amazing. :thumbsup:

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