Nymphs At Play
It is not easy to happen upon them,
Pure nymphs in their natural beauty.
It happened to me only once when
I was resting beneath a red sunset maple,
As the summer hear began to soar.
A stone throw away was a lively stream
Around which grew in flower
A clump of Crape Myrtle Dwarves.
The breeze blew softly carrying
Some mellifluous melody,
Whilst nubile gorgeous maidens,
Laughing merrily frolicked
An amorous intense folk dance.
Then some loud noise disturbed the peace.
And all disappeared out of sight.
Was it a dream?
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