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Fleeing Nymphs and Yearning Satyrs
Your fragrant, smooth, white flesh intoxicates
my senses. Such cool curves! That tumbling hair!
But when I grapple close, those carnal gates
elude me. I'm embracing scented air!
I'm strong, but you are nimble. There you go,
as light and limber as the April breeze,
beyond my grasp - my agile-footed doe,
enticing tail half-seen through tangled trees.
How you can run! Whilst I, half-blind with lust,
lunge in your wake, you - fleet, farouche and fey -
like insubstantial mist, evade my thrust!
Just out of reach, those soft enticements play!
You torture me with longing. And you flee
because you know, this way you'll capture me.
Copyright ©
Michael Coy
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