Kept In The Cave 1 Poem by James McLain

Streaking cross the sky was the flame
gutteral was the word
i did grunt.
Guntress his mate wild insane of
passion well spent
into the pit went
the flame.

No word

Gatherer of meat and veggies tossed
onto the ground before her.
No intelligent sound could he whisper
the whisper was for you.

None other had the flame though sharing
her wild mane into next dwelling
went her.

With the flame.

Such knowledge passed down through
grace of crown.
Of such are Queens now made.