Vigil

Tonight the air is cold and I, alone,
My silent, sullen, lonely vigil keep
While far below, my gentle charges sleep
And dream of creatures brought to life from stone
But once upon a time, I flew more high
Than even these rough beasts of rock and wing
My songs were those that made men weep to sing
My games were those that made men fight and die
Yet here I stand, upon these tower walls,
My soul is bound in chains of mortal life
I serve a human master and his wife
And nothing of the Puck remains at all.
	And so I muse and ponder what is gone,
	And wonder, was my price worth Avalon?