***
The stories will go on
The people will die
The cities will burn
but the stories live forever
The ancient ones
Who were there at the beginning
They are the storytellers
They are born of the ocean's mist
They land softly on a blooming rose
They live in forbidden caves, at the peak of a mountain
They wander along the roads, in search of anything that finds them
They sleep soundly on soft sand, and the ocean feeds them
We are family
We live forever
10-31-96 - would-be Romantic poems written for AP English