The Path Through the Trees, and it may pass as poetry!

I've had a few people inform me that John Flanagan's poetry sounds beautiful next to mine. I dearly hope that that was an exaggeration. But I thought that I'd actually try to sound as poetic as Annette does in the actual book. So here we go.

The Path Through the Trees

Lydia, upon request

Rescued Annette's many knives,

Along with her longbow,

With arrows in twos and fives.

Later while they were were walking

Lyd felt the urge to go hunt

She borrowed Annette's bow

And the arrows that weren't blunt.

Soon, she found some guinea fowl,

They were roosting, looked like fluff,

When she loosed her first shot,

She realised she had no cuff.

As the bowstring slapped her arm,

She let out a startled yelp,

And in her fury killed,

Her prey with a rock, no help.

I hope this worked!

Good bye!