A Wilted Rose

Persephone,

Goddess of spring, 

Innocent and beautiful,

With a flower in her hair,

Sipping her coffee,

Reading her book,

The leaves outside,

Radiantly green,

The birds,

Blissfully chirping,

The aroma of her drink,

Weaving through the café,

Made its way into his nose.

He turned his attention to her.

A sinister aura around him.

“I’m Hades” he said. 

The flower in her hair.

Wilted.

The birds.

Silent.

The leaves.

A foul brown. 

Her innocence stolen.

Prisoner to death.

Persephone.