Treasured Possession

Alien to this world of flowers
Dense woods waits far
albeit has eagle's wings.

Thunder and lightning  around
Blast of trumpet near
from  dark of heavy chains.

Her mount wrapped in smoke.
Burnt offerings hers as ash
Treasured possession she is.

All who pass along way
clap their hands
Hiss and wag heads.

He tells often
if any complaints,
"A bear lying in wait for you
A lion in hiding to tear you pieces
Bent  bow and set as mark for arrows
Shot into vitals the arrows of  quiver"

Sit in darkness of bitterness,
 Tribulations of glass shell
Of "love and care" around her,
She has become a museum piece..