A Child Born Of Wild

The dead leaves danced on a listless wind, as it moaned on through the valley;
All else quite, with many ears perked, as the whispers formed a story.
Once a time, long ago, lived a child born of wild,
With hair of silk, the midnight sky, and a temper none to mild.
As she screamed the birds flew forth, and relayed the high-pitched squawk;
As she breathed the wind grew stronger, through this she learned to talk,
As she wept the clouds swelled up and the mighty rivers flowed,
And when she smiled, her teeth would flash and a silvery light glowed,
When she bathed the oceans rocked, sending heavy waves crashing,
When tantrum came, fists shook the earth, with a very terrible bashing,
Valleys formed and mountains peaked, as her fingers moulded dirt,
And when her temper reared to life, Flames billowed forth and burnt.
As the child grew in years, her ways began to change,
Her wisdom grew, she discovered her fears,
Her night-sky hair thinned out, and slowly faded grey,
Her eyes glittered a morning gold, just like the first spark of day.


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