Of Curses and Blessings.

Men would flock and listen to her,
The voice that could once hypnotize,
Make them blind to all else,
Just as her own unseeing, silver eyes.

At night she'd root herself into the ground,
The only time she'd find alone,
Her branches extending and twisting round,
Finally drinking in their earthen home.

Unknown to her, a green-skinned watcher,
In the shadows he stood alone.
Jealousy consuming him,
Desperately wanting her gifts for his own.

Her windpipe was brutally taken,
Exchanged for a bird,
It's song would awaken,
And substitute her dying word.

However she did not die,
She did not grieve,
Did not cry out in pain,
Or cease to breathe.

She formed a new neck,
From bronze and her blood,
To make a new home,
For the bird she'd learn to love.