Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

Misty morning dawns in the forest, a place where ancient oaks reign and magic lingers. Amidst the shadows stands a spirit, breaking free from fear’s grip. With courage and determination, she finds her voice and tells her tale of triumph over darkness. As the bard weaves her story, history comes to life and the echoes of a dream can be heard.

In the forest’s misty morning— Where ancient oaks preside— she stood—a spirit dawning— With shadows pushed aside.

Once bound by fear’s relentless grip— Her heart in chains of night— She faced the ghost—iron-lipped— And found her inner light.

Her breath—a hymn to early air— Each step—a firm resolve— No longer bound by dread or care— She watched her fears dissolve.

Through pages worn with time and lore— In myths of old she read— She found her strength—her spirit soared— Where once she cowered, dead.

In library’s hushed, sacred space— Her refuge—words profound— She pieced together—truth’s embrace— And stood on hallowed ground.

With Maeve—her guide—through shadows deep— She penned her fears away— Her story’s threads no longer weep— But weave the light of day.

No longer victim—heroine bold— She claimed her tale, her own— With Brigid’s flame her path foretold— Her courage brightly shone.

So let the stories softly wind— Through time’s unending seam— For in her brave heart, we find— The echo of a dream.

A the Bard learns to tell stories history comes to life, and magic can be heard.

©️ Elke T.B. Stevens 30/05/2024