by Judy (Wishes on NetForum)
jkp@bright.net
Where once stood fair Potidaea Just some temple pillars stand, And beneath these stones, say scholars, Sleeps a great bard of this land. Her stories are told as legends, And her bloodlines still are there: There's born to each generation A brave girl with red-gold hair. But far away lies the warrior; Her bones are scattered around. She lies 'neath a field with her comrades; Her tomb can never be found. The Potidaean told many stories Of adventures with her friend, But she never described that last battle Or what was said at the end. Their life paths diverged at a crossroad Where many armies have fought. One left her blood on the field stones; Her friend's life the treasure it bought. Now, somewhere in fields of flowers There gallops a golden mare; On her back rides a tall, bronzed warrior And a young girl with sun-bright hair. Judy (Wishes on NetForum)