My first attempt at a Sestina
These walls, built of cobblestone
Then so generously covered in moss
And hung with drapping vines
Are, to me in passing, quite pretty
Why on earth they would be here
In this desolate land, I cannot see
For as I look around me, all I see
Is a wasteland of broken cobblestone
And I cannot remember why I am here
In this broken land so overgrown with moss
For well it is undeniably pretty
It seems to me to be overrun with toxic vines
Try as I might, I cannot cut through these vines
And they block my path, so all I can see
Is purple dipped petals dangerously pretty
Which scatter their toxic seed on the cobblestone
That it may soak deep into the growing moss
And poison the air, why again, am I here?
Ah, but now I remember why I am here
It is to save this land from the toxic vines
To heal and save the soft green moss
And break down those walls I see
To break them to nothing but cobblestones
To release your bound up soul so pretty
And when I break the walls and see the pretty
Glimmer of your soul, I am glad I am here
Among these broken, shattered cobblestones
Saving you from the poison of the vines
And allowing you the world to see
With vision clear from the fear grown moss
Never fear, I do not blame you for the moss
Or for hiding from the world your soul so pretty
For it is true the world is awful to see
And abuses all who dwell therein, saying “Come here
And wrap these around your throat these vines.”
Yes, I understand why you hid behind this cobblestone
And now you are free from the moss and vines,
Free to see the world from your abode of cobblestone,
This time made pretty, I am so glad I came here.