The Golden Oriole Found - A Fantasy Story

Martin came to a cleft in the rocks The oriole must have gone this way It was narrow and curving A sudden turn, and everything seemed to change. Shrill, reedy music of pipes filled the heavy air, A smell of musk of goats and their dung. Invisible cicadas sustained the piper's lament. Suddenly, he found himself in front of a small but deep lake. Weeping willows, large copper-coloured beeches Surrounded by a large pool of azure water. There was a calm tranquillity about the place Whilst the air was saturated with a fragrance Of exotic flowering lavender-like trees. He heard a splash, and out stepped a young woman. Her canary yellow elegant swimsuit Clung wetly to her honey-coloured body. Damp citrine hair formed a frame around an oval face That was highlighted by an upturned, pointed nose. He did not move but stood mesmerized, Looking into her blue, limpid eyes. A sweet smile shimmered on her lips. "Hello," she said in a mellifluous voice. Her smile was inviting. "My name is Goldie Oriole. Come, sit near me And tell me how you found this place." To be concluded in Part 3