The boy with his apple sat on the swing,
Chewing as he watched the little girls sing.
“curious, curious”, he says to himself.
“why do they do that? I wonder.”
Every evening in the same spot he sat,
It became a habit, into manhood at that.
Now a young man with a sharp face,
The girls too not so little anymore.
And apple and song were still intact.
The tall Aura, with her long red mane,
And Amyra with her big purple eyes,
And of course the twins with two pigtails
All sang chorus, “O dark queen, many hails!”
Aura, Amyra, and them twins
Pulled out small daggers from within.
“Protect our secret, keep us well,
Let none know of this horrid spell.”
And then they cut, and dripped red blood,
That made the young man want to scream
For its lovely scent haunted all his dreams.
Scuffing his boots, he jumped on the sand
And hurriedly ran to where the ladies sang.
The girls in a trance, lost in song
Didn’t see him come, not for long.
Not till the dagger struck its mark.
With little smiles and point teeth turned red,
Away rolled apple as they kissed pretty boy’s head