In quiet of the depths of a forest
A dryad lived in and cared for a tree
Each tree of a certain age was similar
With many dryads alive there
But more than a single being
She was the spirit of the wood
A guardian, most genuine, gentle
Her being spiritual and magical
Until humans entered the land
In the name of all that they saw as good
And began to clear cut the forest
For lumber to use in building
None of them noticed the cost
All of the dead creatures
Dead trees and the dying
The cries of pain heard by faerie kin
Humans in nearby villages were confused
Feeling emotions they'd long abandoned
In their homes they now felt
Older, with a spirit of sorrow
There felt in the air
Of the darkest curse
There indeed was one
For the dryad had sworn vengeance
While her power was limited
Nothing would grow again there
Until trees were returned to that earth
Generations failed to see
That the curse was real
Only then could they make amends
