"Poem - Dryad" by Chris M. Bissette

The golden maiden glides through the trees
Her clothes floating on the autumn breeze
The traveller rises from his cold bed
And looks to the maiden so fair

Oh the sprite of the trees is a thing of bard's tales
A creature of beauty and grace
With golden hair and violet eyes
Such an exquisite and delicate race

But as the traveller looks on in wonder and awe
The still night is shattered by a flash
And thunder rumbles and wind whips the trees
And his entrancement is surely dashed

With a brilliant flash and a mighty sound
Lightning falls from the skies
But instead of passing safely to the ground
It smites an old oak before travellers eyes

And with a sickening crack as the light dies away
The grand tree in half is cleaved
And as the trunk splits in two and falls to the ground
The man can't believe what he sees

As the gnarled old oak is scorched and split
The dryad rushes to be near it
And she cries and screams, falls to her knees
And it seems, too, that she has been hit

For from head to hip a jagged burn appears
And in a flash of white light
The dryad's soul leaves her beautiful body
Now a mangled and twisted sight

This fair maiden is the soul of the tree
And as it dies she must go in pain
Must retun to the ground and the roots of this tree
Return from whence she came

And as this night draws to its evil end
As the last dying sounds of the storm are spent
A mournful traveller packs up his bed
And leaves this place, full of lost love.