Gone

Whither, hither, do they lie.

Not on Earth,

And not in Sky.

Not floating in the Seas afar,

Nor dwelling in caves, where shadows are.

Whither, thither, do they roam?

Not in glen, full of green,

Nor in the meadows to be seen.

Not running on the shores in May,

Nor building homes for winter stay.

Whither, wither, did they flee?

Across the barren desert lands,

Away from horror into glee,

Into waiting Heavens hands.

By: Celeblas Elentári Manwë

Date: April, 28th, 2003

Age: 17

Ok I wrote this after an argument with my mum, the words just flowed, it seems only when I get really frustrated or angry or sad I can only write poems that, well, work. Please review if you feel like it!

Ele.