I had no thought of violets of late,
The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet
In wistful April days, when lovers mate
And wander through the fields in raptures sweet.
The thought of violets meant florists' shops,
And bows and pins, an... Read more of Sonnet at Martin Luther King.ca
On wings of thunder, honor bound,
Search me out, I drum the sound.
Twist and turn in the night,
Dragon come, my guiding light.
Protector, guardian, friend not foe,
Come to me, see my sigil glow.
Strong and true, this friendship charm,
I beacon thee, protect me from harm.
Around and about my magick swirls,
Come to me, your wings unfurled.
Welcome o guardian of (person's name).