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. 


Before he would take the sword left behind

The thief had to pause, for a thought came to mind

That perhaps he should end his clandestine ways.

He'd been stealing so long he lost count of the days,

And luck wouldn't always be there in his favour.

He may one day find that the fruits of his labour

Would be a quick hanging, or at least a cleaved hand.

And so quickly he called for the lady, and ran.

"You forgot your sword!" he said, and she froze,

She turned around, and began to disclose

The curse of the sword, for if it was stolen

The thief would be poxed, from foot to face swollen.

So thankful he was that he turned a new leaf,

Now gracious and giving... and no longer a thief.