Its nine more years for Rhina,
she's doing good so far.
As wise as any wizard,
and as pretty as a star.
The wars of wild have ended,
the realm is back at peace.
The land isn't scorched or brown,
but tilled and soft as fleece.
Little Rhina's growing fast,
she now is ten years old.
With wings as green as leaves,
and hair as fine as gold.
Her servants flit about,
on delicate velvet wing.
Adorning her with jewelry,
as in there tiny voices sing.
Wow this is a long poem! I still have part three to put up!
Enjoy!
