By Nat Hardwick
Pearly mist slowly envelops the cerulean skies,
Growing heavy they descend upon the town below,
Thus marks the beginning of the Naiad’s sorrowful cries.
The fierce wind wails as her opal tears fall,
Waves crashing violently upon the mink rocks,
Chaos consuming as the sirens brawl.
Amidst the unfolding havoc,
a bitter yet electric aura in the air emerges,
The Naiad's gentle tears pepper the skin,
Creating a brief but tranquil sensation.
The Naiad calms as the umbra mist fades away,
the clouds depart,
and the golden sun returns,
once again.