The Fight of the Night

Once, the Ghint sitting on the minst,
And chippering the old Linte;
All the air wabbled down
As the Ghout fighting with the Sowthes.
“Beware you two!”
The Jabbuzy singing, gambeling around the waves
“The storm will come and the light will hide
As the Old Foe might arise.”
The Ghint hasted the blade
At the sorpel, he will may
All thou who might have won
As the shadow hatched the trees.
The lantern sunk the flame
Like a hitch in a hatch
“The Old Foe coming back
As we might have to do that.”
The Linte snickered,
And all the minst went dead;
“Beware you two,
The silent is the death.”
The Ghint tuggling with the woods
With the mansoner in his name
Like a mimsty in the minst
As he clided like a flame.
Brilling with the light
As the Linte have to fight
With the hathe of the doubt
But thou no way to out.
The Ghint vained the trees
Like a snitch in a snatch.
“Thou my old friend
The sorpel is here
As the blade will vain
And you might be near.”
“Slithy the touve”
And steamish little fool;
You have no idea
Who you fighting to.”
“Oh thou my friend,” the Linte said
“The sorpel is here
With the vorpal in its arm
As you might have to come near.”
He haited his sword with the Ghint
“Long time my friend, uhhh…”
The Linte slained his head
With the sword of dead.
The flame of the lantern twiggeling up
As the minst wabbled through the fair;
Once, the Ghint sitting on the minst
And chippering the old Linte.

-By vinh mai

Age 14