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Final Lullaby for a Mole


I greet thee sighing, gentle mole, our first and final time,
Benevolence now banished, although regret may be discerned.
Unfairly christened troublesome for crimes all not of thine,
A swiftly whistling rapier deals punishment unearned.

One final tear of crimson seeping down your trembling whisker,
Few precious days ago you never knew a garden bare,
What grievous mischief has been wrought, enchantingly now brisker,
With churning pebbles mimicking our hearts' stone cold despair.

Rest now before the silver gates, before a garden blessed,
Dream now not of Valerian, but of a richer loam,
Once gathering green bounty fair, your tiny paws may rest,
Beyond the the bounds of sapience your spirit now may roam.

Sleep sound, soft creature of the earth, tucked in your Master's arm,
This fleeting nightmare ended, you're now safe beyond life's harm.




Yours in Lore
ShanShan Stormwind


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Penned by my hand on the 19th of Scarlatan, in the year 536 AF.