The Weaver of Dreams (Extravaganza Entry--Poem)

[Gonff the Mousethief]

The Weaver of Dreams



He took me, he took me, the Weaver of Dreams,
As a thread tied to a long-run needle dear.
Every tug at my heart was all part of his scheme,
To weave a world wonderful for everybeast here.

His hands brought on sea spray, storms an' stories,
Blessed with man's always walk and dog's voice.
Their mission to bring joy to all those robbed of glory,
With angel on Countryside and Cape to rejoice.

A quick pull progressed quite a quaint couple tales,
One a deadly creature dwelling in darkness a'fore dawn,
Or a small beast built bold amongst bitter Winter gales,
Some just a small horror whose feebly fable pushes to be gone.

Though, no wonder could beat the ripple of the thread,
Glorious forests and fields and dashing rivers of expanse.
Every tree with a tale and questing beast a journey tread,
Full of life, full of love, family and friendship in constant dance.

Oh how the needle rings the glimmering bell in the morn,
A breath stealing stance of the newly dewed lawn beneath.
The rays fluttering down stained windows and halls worn,
Tall standing crimson gate, inside a home, shelter, and retreat.

Ne'er a beast one could weave as soft as those seen,
Bustling for chores, baths, work or meals at long last.
Though a day never leaves without hardy fellowship between
Yourself and the fervent family you'll find as time passed.

My how a waft of his hand could create such a smell
As the ones of the Abbey's baking away for noontime meal.
Oh the pleasing pastries, terrific tarts, sweet salads and ale to quell
The scoffing hares whose soothing scones and soups heartily heal.

Whilst tightening the ending strings a fire does out spring
With fellows gathering 'round with many a telling tale to tell.
Legends of warriors bold with granted sword and spirit to ring
The freedom bell from tyrants reaping the land for themselves.

Though with needle down and long worn project complete,
The threads all knitted tight remind of this land's family and friends.
How the laughs ring, stories echo, and tears fall on shoulder dearly sweet;
The ties with these few only grow with passing time, some slack, yet never end.

The Weaver of Dreams holds up his work once our journey leaves on its way.
A tapestry he presents, marvel of colors, care, characters, one for all.
The many faces of those whose hearts all connected with open arms to proclaim,
Always a scene of love, laughter, life, and living in the forever lasting land of Redwall.

[Rosie Willowwater]

Oh my goodness, this is incredible Gonff! I think this might be one of my favorite things you've written yet!

[Captain Tammo]

I was wondering when you'd enter a poem! As always, great job!