The Daemon
A poem I ended up writing for in a class of mine that I'm incorporating into a story of mine. Any idea or criticism on how to improve it would be appreciated.
Upon the windswept hill on this moonlit night
The black forest behind and town in sight,
A small figure sits among the grass
All alone in sorrow.
A pair of crimson horns and a queen's tail,
Golden eyes and a smile impaled.
As the night wears on and cold sets in,
Her thoughts retreat and hide.
In time a new light shines,
These boots approach with unhope.
As they halt behind there is no pain or shine
In this silence wings beat down the earth,
The cold is gone replaced by warmth.