The Lady of the Lake...

Beneath the surface, dark and deep, A tragic tale, the lake does keep. A princess scorned, a love denied, In Ronkonkoma, where she died. Her heart pierced through, a lover's plea, Now her spirit roams, wild and free. The water shimmers, calm and still, But a chilling presence, it does fill. A silent promise, she will claim, A yearly tribute, whispered name. Lady of Lake Ronkonkoma, A pale shape in the water. One by one, she takes them in, Cold as the mud beneath. Mind the drop when the surface sleeps, Nothing holds in her reach. The summer sun, a false disguise, It flashes hard on tow ropes and pine-skinned thighs. Unknowing souls, they wade the edge, Past the algae line and the cattail ledge. A quick hard yank, then water closes in, Pulled to the bottom in one cold spin. The water shimmers, calm and still, But a chilling presence, it does fill. A silent promise, she will claim, A yearly tribute, whispered name. Lady of Lake Ronkonkoma, A pale shape in the water. One by one, she takes them in, Cold as the mud beneath. Mind the drop when the surface sleeps, Nothing holds in her reach. They say you catch her for a blink, A white face rising at the brink. Then she drags back through the black, Like something pulled by hooks at the back. No splash, no cry, just reeds gone slack, And the water folds itself back. A lover's rage, still sharp and thin, Hovering where the weeds begin. One man each year, the legend states, Sealed by her sorrow, by cruel fates. So heed the warnings, turn away, Lest you become her watery prey. The Lady waits, in depths profound, Where lost souls forever are bound.