Eowyn

Standing like a beacon of hope in a troubling word,

A myriad of alabaster and gold

Limpid grey eyes like the sea, that glimpse the light at the end of

the passage

The land that she loves lies ravaged and torn, it's spirit broken

breaking with each passing day, as a wall crumbles with age

She struggles to hold it together, but it slips through her fingers

like sand

Cold she appears, like the flower in winter

Yet somehow alive with the hope that spring will come

And the snows will melt into rivulet streams And wash away the dust of

the earth