Eh. Vision is the most workable rhyme I can come up with, but its accentuation isn't quite right. Look for online rhyming dictionaries - there are a lot of words that rhyme with done, but if you're willing to dig through them, you should find something better. Pretty nice poem, though, however you rhyme it.

-EH

Thanks Emily, I'll keep working on it

Hi there, Gwynnia! (Is that your real name, or just a pseudnym?)  I realy liked reading your poem, but I do have some constructive critizism for you.  If you feel that I am communicating this the wrong way or disagree with me, feel free to argue.

I felt that the beat was off throughout the poem.  This is solved easily.  All you have to do is maybe clap the poem out or say it out loud to get the feel of the rhythm.  (Do you play an instrument or sing, or maybe even compose music?  It's the same basic principle.)  The last line of the first stanza, And questioned who told him where to hide from the birds?, is too long.  My suggestion would be to find a shorter synonym for questioned. 

You don't have to rhyme your poem unless you want to, so don't worry about that.  Many of the best works of poetry do not rhyme.

I am not sure how much of this stems from the awkward rhythm, but the poem, dispite its beautiful ideas, is choppy and awkward.  Maybe you could expand the vocabulary a little to make it flow more.  Find synonyms for words, see what works for you.

Overall, I thought that it was a great start; it just needs a little nudge in the right direction.

I myself have a problem with the story that I am writing.  The story is based on Greek mythology, about a young girl who died and has gone to the Underworld.  She needs to cross the River Styx, but as she drowned,no one knows where her body is and they canot place a golden drachma in her mouth for her to pay Charon, the boatman, for passage.  The part where she gets free passage is awkward, and I don't know how to make it work.  Maybe a fresh set of eyes (aka you) will help.

I don’t know how long I was in there, but it couldn’t have been long.  The only clear memory I have is of when I escaped.  I was sitting next to an old man with a scraggly beard.  I was about to count the spirits in the room again (at my last count, there were 258) when he spoke up. 
“You are not like the others,” he commented.  “I cannot explain it, but you are special.  Tell me, who were your parents?”
I felt that there was no harm in telling him, so I replied, “My father was Pyrrhus xxxx, my mother Helena xxxx.”
“Strange.  Ordinary humans, yet your flame is so strong…  It blinds me.  She must be someone special; no ordinary human has such a bright aura.  I wonder…” he trailed off, muttering to himself in an undertone.  So I was startled when he suddenly proclaimed, “Yes.  You must be someone important, child.  You have urgent business in the Underworld.  Therefore, you are special enough to be given this.”  He handed me a golden drachma.  I looked at him in awe.  No one, absolutely no one, gave away their ticket across the river.  Who would willingly submit themselves to this for eternity?  I looked at the coin in his ethereal palm, torn.  I would give anything to be rid of this, this, nothingness, the waiting.  Anything, I realized, except this.
“No.” I said quietly.  The old man looked startled.  “You are very kind, but I could not cross, knowing that you would never follow, knowing that I was responsible.  You have a great heart, and I hope that you enjoy life in the Elysian Fields.”
I did not realize that Charon was watching until he spoke.  “In all of my millennia ferrying you spirits across that accursed river, I have never seen someone so selfless as you.  I only wish…” he trailed off, apparently torn.
“It’s alright.” I told him, mainly to reassure him.  “I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do.” Charon said, apparently having made up his mind.  “To Tartarus with the consequences.”
“But he’ll destroy you,” I said, distraught.  “I can’t have that on my conscience.  I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you because of me.”
“That is why you will have no choice in the matter.  One way or another, you are going over that river, if only because you re too selfless for your- or anyone else’s- good.”

Wow Gwynnia, this is just..this is just magical! Seriously, I love it! It's sounds like a poem and a dance and a song mixed in one.

And I also disagree, the beat is right on. You can't say it fast and work through it, I find it slow likes a summers daydream.

My suggestion for the last stanza, is to say something with the sun. E.G 'Like a whispering sun' or 'taking place for the sun' or such. :)