Voyage to Avalon
Above the apple trees, there’s hum of bees.
Near Isle of Avalon, old Merlin floats;
Wisteria is worn in his lapel.
His spirit swells as mandolins are strum.
To Ynys Afallach does Merlin row
So transports dying Arthur to her arms.
Morgan Le Fay, the daughter of the King.
Nine druidesses skilled in arts to heal.
To memory and legend lies a land
where nothing ever dies but only sleeps;
where Merlin slumbers, waiting next command
of Arthur mid his centuries of dreams.
Where once there stood glass castles by the sea
There, off the tip of Lleyn Peninsula
once more to Avalon I’d rather be
where nothing ever dies but only sleeps.
(Day 2, April Writers Digest Challenge) Prompt: the subject is ‘voyage’.