In an old sort of shop, Near the ruins at Tintagel, Was a chippy. The woodsman spent his days, A gaze out at the shore, Longing for some company. He had only ever carved from driftwood, Or deadwood, Fells from storms, But for some reason, On one particular day, He ventured St Keyne way, To find a magical tree, Grown four different ways, From just one root. An oak leaned northward, It’s wisdom guiding many. A willow spread southward, For flight would come if it. |
For it brought peace with setting sun.
The Elder that grew,
Leaned towards the east,
Where the Fae lived,
In their magical realm.
It was the elder that tempted him,
Drew the craftsman in,
And as he reached up,
He snapped off a branch,
And left.
In his shop he carved two popets.
One he called his boy,
And so named him Maw.
But to ensure that Maw would not be lonely,
Not be like him,
He carved a girl,
A pretty thing,
And so named her Tegen.
He spent his days laughing,
Watching Maw and Tegen playing.
He spent his nights reading,
Teaching them of the world around.
Maw asked the woodsman,
“Why do we think when others around us do not?”
The chippy replied,
“You were made of a different branch,
One that is creative, intelligent and magical.
You are special and you are my favourite.”
Tegen noticed the woodsman,
Growing tired,
Pale.
She moped his brow,
And with Maw’s help,
Put him to bed.
That night, he died.
Maw and Tegen found themselves alone,
No one to guide them,
No one to help them.
The people of the village began to talk,
Began to speak of the magical elves,
That dwelled within the craftsman’s shop.
They plotted to exploit the popets,
Capture them and use them for themselves.
“I want them to do my washing!” spoke one woman,
“I want them to cook my dinner!” muttered another,
“I want them to work in my mine!” grumbled a businessman.
The popets heard all that had been said,
And it made them worry.
They had been born free,
They wanted to stay free,
To play and read as they pleased.
And so,
As fists came banging on the door,
They bolted through the window,
Jumped over the fence,
And ran off,
Into the fields,
Towards the castle ruins.
The people chased them.
They wanted them to stay,
To work for them,
They waved jewels and trinkets,
Hoping to make them stay,
But the popets kept running.
Away they dashed, Maw looking forward, Looking towards the safety of the castle, But Tegen, She could not help but look back, Could not help but be distracted by the shining, The trinkets, The jewels. She was so distracted, She did not see the danger ahead, And crashed over the clifftop, Tumbled down, And shattered into several pieces, Littered upon the beach. |
He looked down at his friend,
And sobbed for her,
And sobbed for himself.
She did not help herself,
And he did not look out for her.
Now he was safe and free,
But he was alone.