"The Blacksmith"

By SirWolfr1
October 30, 2001
All Rights Reserved

The tiny woman, her neck ,heart and soul so bare.
Stood in awe as she watched the Blacksmith's craft,
At a Medieval fair with a gathering of friends.
Who, had they known her true thoughts, would have thought her daft.

She watched as he stood like a mountain of muscle and flesh.
In his workplace made of steel and fire, smoke, spark and stone.
And watched as he heated and pounded and tempered the steel,
And from her lips escaped a soft, but not unheard moan.

"This man is indeed a Master of his craft," she thought.
As the steel took on a shape and form before her eyes.
And she watched as it changed from something common,
To a thing of rare beauty and strength.
She thought, "Small wonder with that steel I do sympathize."

"His craft is not unlike that of a gifted Dom," she thought.
To take the common and make it valued and rare.
Though 'tis done with violence and fury, He works with sweat, fire and love.
Small  wonder I guess that I should stare.

The skills he uses are those a Dom would.
The Dom that one day I hope and pray I shall find.
One who with violence and passion, power, strength and control,
I would serve were I but given the slightest sign.

There had been others in the past, she knew.
Those who skill was in word, and not in deed.
Liars and users who held both her and her gifts with contempt.
Neither knowing nor caring what might be her needs.

The burning she felt in her heart she knew,
Was as hot as any fire of the Blacksmith's art.
But this fire threatened to consume her, to engulf her with passion and love,
If she could but find a man worthy of playing His part.

A Man who would hold her, and control her with strength and with love.
A man who would understand this way that she did feel.
One who would make her and shape her and then remake her anew.
As did the Blacksmith with this very steel.

The Blacksmith looked into her eyes as she watched,
And seemed to look into her soul as well.
He saw the passion, the longing, the deeply hidden desires.
And realized her special form of hell.

As her friends called her, he removed his outer shirt to display,
A vest, worn and proud that made her tears unbidden flow.
On his arm, she saw he proudly bore a tattoo, 
the Emblem of the D/s World. And once again did her heart with hope grow.

Just then her friends came and gathered her up.
Saying that they would be late to returning to work this day.
And she started to protest, but could not speak,
Till the blacksmith shook his head and softly bid her nay.

"I hope you ladies will come again," he said.
To see my creations of leather and of steel.
I mold them and I craft them, and I make them whole.
And those that are broken, some say that I heal."

"My skills are here, awaiting your needs," he said to all but spoke only to one.
"You need not worry, for I will be here, as sure as the evening sun."
And as she let her friends pull her away, she looked back one last time,
To the giant who had spoken her heart, and whose words did her soul define.

She smiled as she walked into the gathering darkness, each a soft and knowing smile.
Each sharing a secret that no other could know, no matter what paths they would go.
Each knowing what was offered, like two sides of a coin,
That each the other did make whole.