Morphlings are shape-shifting creatures in my team written YA fantasy novel, The Lost Heir. This is a nonsense poem written for the story. It is meant to be something morphling children are told. If you’re reading The Lost Heir on Wattpad, the morphlings have not been introduced yet, but you’ll be meeting one very soon!

Little Morphling

Little morphling; little bird

I wonder if you’ve heard

How the day became the night

And stole our hours of flight

No, you, child, have not heard such things

Because your mother flapped her wings

Then touched her toes

And never told you how it goes

About the greedy sun eating up the clouds

Whistling gray, cold and white out loud

There is no moon, you see, little bird

Little morphling, little dear

So, I must make one thing clear

before your arms sprout wings

And that ball of fire tells you things

The sun is just greedy; it gobbles up clouds

And turns gray, cold and white out loud

Only the truth from me you will hear

There is no moon

Little morphling, little bird, little dear

A Beautiful Narration:

Read The Lost Heir on Wattpad

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