by Alex Huckaba
Lady of the lake, weary from age,
tender and warm, aiding our prayer.
protecting me inside of a cage,
made of your long, sturdy hair.
Rest on my tomb grandmother of earth!
As ancient Celtic myths foretell:
When my bones begin to wear your rings,
my soul will come embrace your spell.
Years go by and you don't change.
Artist and bards feature your grace.
I never fear you will estrange.
I can always relax in your embrace.
So deepen the anchor binding your life,
within your grasp i'll never strife.
As we sing and dance to the moon with pride,
know you are my lady, and you are my guide.