A Poem: The Warning of the Pine

THE WARNING OF THE PINE

Down by the river,
the river so deep,
I saw a fair maiden,
soundly asleep.

She was lovely, this lady,
in a red velvet gown,
and around her fair face,
ebon locks did fall down.

Her lips, they were red,
red as a rose.
Her face it was lovely,
in her soft repose.

For a time I just stood
admiring this view,
I had nowhere to go,
nothing better to do.

Then, with a sigh,
and a soft, plaintive moan,
the lovely lady awoke,
saw me and groaned:

"Impetuous youth!
You dare look on me?
For such effrontery,
Spend your days as a tree!"

With a crackle of brimstone,
a flicker of flame,
my body reshaped,
and was never the same.

The beauteous witch-woman,
lovely and fair,
threw back her head,
tossing her hair.

Her beauty it faded.
Her firm flesh, it sagged.
Revealing her truth,
a wicked old hag!

She turned on her heel,
spinning around,
and vanished, like that,
down into the ground.

Ever since then,
by this river I’ve stood,
a lonesome old pine,
all needles and wood.

I work on this verse,
I sing to the wind,
praying no other youth,
meets a similar end.