Beloved, sit tight,

With my left hand locked in your right.

Let me whisper a tale in your ears,

Why I fear leaving you when night nears.

Orpheus, the minstrel 

with a lyre so fine,

In ancient tales,

his music did shine.

His melodies, 

a bridge to realms untold,

A tale of love and sorrow,

to be retold.

Eurydice, his beloved, 

lost to the shades,

In the underworld's depths, 

where darkness pervades.

With strings that wept

and notes that soared,

Orpheus ventured 

where mortals by death explored.

His lyre's enchanting, 

mournful tune,

Moved Hades himself, 

the lord of gloom.

Eurydice's spirit stirred 

from slumber's abyss,

Drawn to the strains of 

Orpheus' kiss.

But the fates demanded 

a heart-wrenching fee,

Orpheus must not look back, 

he must not see.

As they ascended, 

his love by his side,

Doubt crept in, 

and he glanced behind.

A moment of weakness, 

love's cruel plight,

Eurydice vanished, 

out of sight.

Orpheus, in anguish, 

his music waned,

A love so close, 

forever unattained.

In this tale of music's might,

Orpheus' loss, a bittersweet plight.

His songs, a testament to love's great cost,

A timeless symphony of love, once lost.

See, I feel your hand 

tightening around mine.

Your eyes, circling around my face,

Did it just lose a little shine?

Worry not, my love,

You are my muse, 

And forever will be, 

in all the playlists I ever combine.

Tahseen Nower Prachi is a writer whose head is a koi pond of micro tales too scattered to come down to her keyboard. For more of her little pieces follow The Minute Chronicles on Facebook.