She Poem by Chattail

Have seen I,
the tale of tall tailed creator
Low it fur be
Thick it blanket be
Long it time be
But high it could be
Heartless

Mourn the flesh I
Scratch the water she
Flow be the nature she
goes through hers
Naked

Heard the breeze I
Then came tapping, rapping,
flowing, beating, dancing she
Dark

Farewell realism, me
Chant over, the last dance of mages
Oh, magic goes too slow!
Decline give the distance of
spell-
No!

Mine is she