Minstrel
You shaped your music like silver streams, easily as the soft snow falls on Caradhras, large as the roar when it groans and piles off of a cliff. You painted so steadily I could see the flaming arrows in your eyes above the crowd. Higher than ale, higher than heads of warriors, you let go like mallorn trees in autumn. I thought if I ran outside I would meet my true love dripping in the rain.
How long did you sit in darkness scratching out your bittersweet words? Where did you find this honeyed hope that lingers now among us?