Nestled in her creche of seaweed all tangled with crabs and sardines,
Dame Aragne reveled in the luxury of shadows.
Sunshine irritated her dark curling hair and white skin.
The irritation soon turned to true burning, eating every follicle and pore.
The burning then became petrification, making her a mermaid of stone.
With the sun as her medusa, Dame Aragne preferred to hide.
She hid far below the waves until the moon beckoned her.
Then Dame Aragne would shoot up to the surface of the sea
and sing to the stars, especially her favorite three:
Ladda-loo, Falla-coo, and Maffa-woo.
Ladda-loo was crimson; Falla-coo, a startling shade of blue.
Maffa-woo twinkled gold, every evening falling just a bit dimmer.
These stars were Dame Aragne's friends beyond the ocean,
her only confidantes, her only company.
Otherwise, she was a wan little mermaid, humming to herself
in a hammock of seaweed, until night tumbled into the sky.