The Lorelai.


I row beside a castle on the Rhine,
The turrets reaching toward the sky of blue.
The vineyards on the hills, untouched by time,
Transport me back to years I never knew.

Out from the zenith of a nearby hill
Come sounds of song, so tempting and yet pure.
She cries out, "Komm zu mir!" I fear I will;
But fear begins to fade, slain by allure.

Then, crash. The wreckage of my ship does float
North, down the river. Flotsam, jetsam, filth.
Before the black, I turn to see her gloat—
And yet, her face is tragic, wracked with guilt.

The ancient siren pauses, her eyes fey,
As turn I from this place and walk away.