Holda Keeper of the Flame

A Short Poem

With weeping eyes do I look at the night sky,
Faded stars and black moon making one cry.
Long lost is Mother Holda, keeper of flame,
In her absence they play the game of blame.

Her gentle song murmuring for those who hear,
My divine Mamma, I her cub, she a great bear.
Long do I mourn her, tears fallen like streams,
Her golden fields call to me in sweet dreams.

Mother of the dawn, bringer of wintry beauty,
On the glistening ice, skating is our only duty.
Trees all decorated with her powdered snow,
Her white fox, akin a river with gentle flow.

The goddess of balance, with whom we belong,
Her sacred melody, if silent, is not her final song.
Ancient sorceress and queen, clever and so strong,
Protecting the vulnerable and meek is not wrong.