Syrinx's Sadness

Stuck, unable to leave the cocoon.

Syrinx's Sadness

Those Scorpions

sang me an angel

from the land of the morning star.

But my life blood flowed

down regretful cheeks

stinging, salty my sorry soul.

For she was lost in the mists

and no wise man could

give me true counsel,

and ease the pain.

For her wings were wet

with my tears

and she had forgotten

how to rise up.

So there she lay,

a crumpled, sad

nymph upon oaken bark,

and there,

deep in her safe, magic forest,

her final breath

was taken.

 

20/09/17

Author's Note

Reviews

[wordman]

a sad,lovely tale john,,,,

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Sad indeed Ron and a waste of vibrancy and beauty. many thanks for reading.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Oh, such sadness is portrayed in this very pleasant poem. Unable to take off and flourish! To me this is a metaphore for many a thing we wished to have happened, but which just died like the unfortunate butterfly. And, those scorpions? Were they responsible?

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you AA. Indeed the song still brings tears to my eyes.