entwine the stems of
roses three
a sprig of thyme to
tether thee
around the hill the clock
winds back
a golden light beckons once
pitch black

a boon is granted in the
emerald light
as voices whisper from
shadowed night
as your legs quiver like a
newborn foal
the fae they call for your
mortal soul

cold iron cold iron to strike
them dead
cold iron and salt to ring
your homestead
oh the faeries are cunning
woven in lies
how the faeries cast glamours on
mortal eyes