Sonnet for Merrill

Sonnet For Merrill

She chases butterflies of gold and blue
That others do not see. In Kirkwall’s maze
She darts and dances lightly. As they do,
She glories in the gentle autumn days.
The templars do not look at one more elf
To see the magic in her soul, and so
She has no fear, she’s free to please herself,
To puzzle over mirrors,  and to go
Wherever Hawke may lead, save home. The cost
Is high; the exile from her clan, each scar
On arms or heart a mark of what she’s lost,
And what she’s working to regain. There’s far
       To go, and yet she dances on the way.
       Her people’s tale is worth the price. She’ll pay.