Eowyn

Standing like a beacon of hope in a troubling world,
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, its spirit broken
breaking with each passing day, as a crumbling wall
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