Unearthly treasures dug, rings stripped from bone,
Greed doth speak, some things better left alone.
Terror instilled, from their graves they fly free,
Disturbed, robbed, angry now they move hauntingly.
Tis indeed a deadly omen, the darkened sky weeps,
The further they dig, upon the ground blood seeps.
They cannot know, they should have left it alone,
But they had to rip that ring from her bone.
Now she screams, more of a banshee wail,
Would but they live to tell her torturous tale.
Thunder rages, lightning glides across her rotted skin,
And as he looks upon her he knows his life is at an end.
Too far in the cave to escape her wrath,
His hope fades as boulders drop in his path.
To be buried alive with the dead Queen of Souls,
Over a priceless ring made of pure gold.
Oh how he had laughed, nothing but a fable,
His friends dared him, money on the table.
He traveled alone, on the morrow they would come,
But time was unkind, he would be dead with the sun.
She was here, she was there, darkness took his mind,
He tried to open his eyes, sightless, tears, so blind.
He tried to cry, tried to ask forgiveness, tried to speak,
Such was the fog in his brain he could not think.
As he shuddered in the darkness he could feel her claws,
And wished she would just hurry and end it all.
No, that would not happen, oh she could not let that be,
For she had found a mate for her eternity.
© Cynthia Clark