Where the Dryad once had lingered
The woodland whispers still to her
Come home where your shadow tarries
Beside the stream, the drowsy fir,
Down along the sleepy lake side
Where only reeds and ripples stir.
There her quiet shadow wanders
Among the woods that hold her heart.
Though she left it far behind her,
Still they will never be apart
For her mind turns ever homeward,
Drawing her back to her start.
From his land of stone and mortar,
He called to her from far away
And she followed, quite enchanted,
His voice held her within its sway.
He bound her there, in his garden,
A priceless treasure on display.
She hears the songs of the forest
From where she’s bound, a captive bloom,
In a cultivated garden
That holds her like an icy tomb.
She longs to spread her roots and branches;
The garden offers her no room.
Weeping, she hears her wood calling,
She hears the reeds murmur her name.
She longs to smell the wild mosses
Instead of roses, sweet and tame.
Her tears flow, a bitter fountain
Spilling sorrow into her shame.
Broken is the Dryad’s haven,
Shattered are the trees of home
For too long they’ve been deserted
By the one who chose to roam.
She who is now trapped forever
Far from her heart and native loam.
