A/N:for The Howling Behemoth again, here's some Beatrice poems.

Returning

"Withwings, she falls-

Falls,
falls,
falls.

But with arms, she flies,
Through a sea of stars;
Running through forest-mists
and followed by a red-trailed comet.

But with feathers
and light as air;

She falls,
blue-feathered,
bright-winged
and singing sorrow-

She falls."

Blue Mourning

"She sings in the morning;
Dawn's first light -
a pitiful mourning
of awful plight.

Sorrowful, rotten, treacherous deed.
Betrayal bound up in a pair of wings.

The scissors are forgotten
though they trimmed the wings bare;
they did not revive her image -
Feathers grew back instead of hair.

Lament poor Beatrice,
who forgiven of her deeds
would never be forgiven
her sorrowful wings.

She sings in the evening
as the sun takes its leave;
Leaps from the branch, flittering-
the wind her tumultuous sea."