Her Leprracon

Your bare bottom pounds as you glide across the cloven countryside, tresses lifting, buoyant breasts, your stallion savages his breaths. Pressing knees, you turn him wide, Pull up below the rivers bridge. You let him drink low and long You sing to him a wild song You lie on moss to bid him see your treasure space once meant for me. Withers shining, smoothed by sweat perfumed where your bodies met, he throws his head then steps away. You think of something cruel to say though not of him, your muscled pet but of me, below the rivers bridge. You step to him as if on air You touch him with a lover’s care You climb again, pull tight the reins Then release your grip to run again.