The Storyteller

A poem I wrote a while back, please read.

She has no other talents, not with hands or feet, 

her voice though, shines through blazes of existence.

She sits on the hot, sandy floor of a desert camp

and suddenly, the whipping sandstorms halt, 

as if they are weaving the story with her.

Long ebony hair reaches the ground where she sits

cross legged, and her onyx eyes burn with mystery

and the promise of unraveling. 

Everyone who now sits in her circle to hear her tales

of magic and bravery has mocked her once, 

that is all gone now, like the dust that shelters her bare feet.

Silence and excitement fill the room and she begins, 

her voice wavering on that first timbre of a story.

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

Good visual lure drawing the reader in. This is like a prologue for a story or a book. i like the way you set the bait to capture the reader's interest. I am waiting to read the story now.