The Land of Lost Hope

Through the thicket

Through the grass

This how I became lost to the king

Of Harknott Pass

Perspiration dampens my hair

Muddy boots, slipping through

Bracken, fly agaric rings

Completely unaware of the world

I have stumbled in, my heart

Now in possession of the goblin king

Until he stands before me

In his golden, oak leaf

Glory, foreboding eyes

As old as the earth beneath

Our feet and I swear as our

Gazes meet he captures my soul

For eternity to keep

Come little one he beckons me

With ambrosia & roses, helplessly

Enchanted I suddenly be

There is no time to look to the past

With closure, come they chant, sing

Magnolias sway

A crown of thorns, spider silk dress

Only the best for the Harknott fae

And the queen who shall

Keep the human plain at bay

And as I take the hand of

The otherworldly man, sat upon

The ivy throne of Cumberland I

Pause to reflect on now and before

How many? I ask my alder husband

‘Always you’ he replies with a golden

Smile and there within the lies is my truth

I am the golden haired girl of

The lakes old folklore

Goblins, elves, fae & bees

Dance in merriment before him & me

Lost to the music, I give in at last

My fate bound and lost to the king

Of Harknott Pass

Melanie Whitlock is a writer, historian and poet hailing from Cumbria. With supernatural roots from her grandparents, her life is rich with magic and steeped in folklore. Her writing work has been included in national magazines, newspapers and she uploads short pieces daily to twitter. Her first supernatural/romance novel is expected late next year. You can find her between the moon and stars.

The Land of Lost Hope

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