Persephone

She’s the breath of spring—

reduced to a wilting flower.

Life calls her name—

Death holds her down.

A beauty of nature,

A prisoner of mortality.

The cool breeze sings of her liberation.

The fiery heat shapes her shackles.

Bound to the confinements of eternity,

merely a visitor in her own world.

You thank her for the changing seasons,

while her mother grieves.