Am I the lonesome nymph, echoing back to silence?
A whispered voice bounced against withered trees.
Trees once lush with leaves and ripe with fruit.
Fruit picked and burst against the teeth of reality's now.

Are you the stunning youth? The tragic hero wandering in the wood?
I call you savior, come to lift my soul
with blinding rays of morning sun rising from the valley floor.
Engulfing me with searing heat and fiery embrace.

Together we play a child's game of make believe.
Of faerie lights and magic spells.
Of green boughed castles, where you reign king and I your queen.

Still fantasy is not made to last.  Games grow cold upon the forest floor.
My wooded glen once peopled by the hopes and dreams of you, now lies still.

I am lost! My dancing feet frozen fast by fear.
Where are you my sun and moon, my pleasant day, my driving rain?
I am eclipsed and left. Another careless casualty of your twisting, seething, cyclone winds.

Desperately, I look for some silent witness of my life in your gaze.
Yet in the twin ponds of your never wavering eyes,
I see only your image reflected in their shallow depths.

And I know you now.

Your name is Narcissus.