Standing in the snow so deep,
Is an maiden, made of light,
Her voice is like a lullaby,
Her eyes are pools of deep, deep, sorrow.
Her heart is warm despite the cold,
Her hair is black and long,
Her skin as white as the snow on the ground,
Her plea like a once forgotten song.
With hands held out before her,
She begs those who pass by,
To please have little compassion,
For the ones snubbed by fate.
She asks all the young adventurers,
Ready for their tale to begin,
To not forget those old weary travelers,
Whose stories are ended and want to go home.
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