Fangs sunk through her ankle. Blood and venom mixed.

Collapsed upon the ground, the young oak nymph lay dying.

She had not strength to cry. Her sweet brown eyes faded,

She sighed her final breath, the grass beneath her died.

He pleaded her soul to stay, though it had long left.

But he is Apollo’s son, and he will not let go.

He will cross Charon, plead with Persephone.

But Poet, do you know? You are to lose her twice.