I swear terzanelles are going to drive me insane. In a good way. I hope. Bleh.

Here's what a few hours' worth of focus got me. Feel free to rip it to shreds.


Her cloak is red and black, and stained with light,
with gold and silver dancing in her eyes:
it hides the watching shadows of the night.

Behind, the brush of sunset sets the skies
alight; the fire spills across her face:
with gold and silver dancing in her eyes

she dips her head and lifts her hands to trace
a binding spell, a rune. The stars are all
alight; the fire spills across her face

and down her cloak; the sunset bonfires fall
and fade. She drops her hands and starts to sing
a binding spell, a rune. The stars are all

ablaze and watchful, bright and glimmering.
Her spells wrap tight about my soul: they spark
and fade. She drops her hands and starts to sing

another tune, a drawing, sweet and dark.
Her cloak is red and black, and stained with light
(her spells wrap tight about my soul, and spark):
it hides the watching shadows of the night.