she was a girl in a forest with no trees
he was a boy of fire and blind belief.
it was Chicago, planes flew overhead
now she's in bed
fast asleep.

and who will wake her from her dreams?
who dares disturb her restless peace?
everything he knows blazing wild to ash
flames won't catch
eyes won't meet.

in constant noise, she does not speak
through clouds of smoke, he cannot see.
she takes her bitter pills to swallow
forget those hollow
memories.

 Hello, everyone! I'm back, with a short story set in my fantasy world, in the country of Relastin. I hope ya'll like it, but please feel free to criticize it (constructively, of course!). And forgive the bad poetry, as I'm not much of a poet, but felt as though I had to include those verses in it. Oh, and Amira is pronounced (Uh-my-ruh).

AMIRA

I stood quietly by the bedside, now and then dipping a cloth in a basin of water and placing it on Orren's forehead. He tossed feverishly and muttered something which sounded like,

The old man sitting in front of the mountain chalet leaned back and watched an eagle soaring lazily above the mountain peak. He closed his eyes and listened for a moment to the wind hissing softly through the trees. He folded his rough hands across his broad chest and leaned back against the rough sides of the house. He was deep in thought when a light touch on his shoulder brought his to his feet. A slight woman with graying hair leaned over him, a soft smile on her weathered face. He smiled back and she seated herself at his side.