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The Death Of The Traveler
The Traveler grew feeble, ancient of days
His eyesight gone dim, his hair turned to gray
His hands, gnarled and twisted, no longer strong
His knees, stiff and painful from dancing too long
His love for the Sprite had grown with the years
They'd shared joy and laughter, sorrow and tears
Her enchantment had given unnatural long life
To the one she adored and protected from strife
While they danced and they loved, four hundred years flew
It felt like just moments, but the Willow Sprite knew
That she couldn't stop time, nobody can
She was immortal, the ...