Choose Your Own

Adventure Poem

In twinning towns of mage and knight 

One may find darkness, the other, light. 

In Sword lies a fountain in a central courtyard, 

Its water can cleanse any blade, be it marred 

By the blood of an orc, a troll, or a demon, 

And will sharpen its edge for much further reapin'.  

Amid the masses of fencers and fighters 

Walked a woman in red. And just like a spider 

She carried eight swords, and could draw them as quickly 

As if she had eight limbs—a talent so nifty. 

But from time to time, she'd visit the fountain 

To clean each sword. She'd often lose count and  

Start from the beginning, until all swords were gleaming. 

Meanwhile from the shadows, another was scheming 

To steal a blade, maybe two, or all eight. 

He'd beguile her with lies, and in haste fabricate 

A tale most alarming that would send her away 

In a hurry, while leaving her forgotten long blade.