She lies in splendor
beneath the broken sky.
At her feet, a star falls
by her head
Lilies grow.
Startling in their whiteness,
like ghosts in the forgotten ruin.

Tendrils of ivy crawl across the floor
And enfold her in a gentle embrace.
Her pale skin shines
in the mist that hovers.
Her beauty and silence
hangs above like a curse.

  The curtain has fallen
        Let her sleep.
  Her era has ended
        And now we weep.

The tale is over
The legend forgotten.

There seems nothing as empty
and frighteningly sad
As the death of a myth.

For the Last Days of a Forgotten Nymph.