Calliope

Calliope believes that there are not enough hours in a day

To be able to juggle her roles

Of mother, poet, and waitress

She spends too much time

Shuffling her son and waiting tables

To be able to write the tales of heroes

Her old magic is wasting away

And she can’t give it up

So she watches herself grow old

She slowly wastes away

While Orpheus looks on

Too focused on music to care

The old gods are dying

With no one who cares

Calliope has met her end