Wood Nymph
Today on the road to the old grind
I spied a wood nymph I was hoping to find
Among the trees smiling warm and kind.
She had me play hooky, controlling my mind.
She radiated in the temped spring air
Wearing green silk and flowers in her hair.
In her spell, I would follow anywhere.
‘Neath an oak, we petted her black hare.
Buds sprang from the new warmth
I was filled with the virility of youth
While the air was with sweet vermouth
Blindly I was led down her silent path.
To call it love would be pallid prose.
A mortal man, a Goddess juxtapose
Then intertwined as the blood flows
Blossoming a rare mountain rose.
Transfixed by green eyes and brown hair
We found ourselves as a motionless pair
The wind shifted to cold blowing sudden tear
And I woke up in my office chair.
Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs
I was surprised that this wasn't posted to this musings blog. I was reminded of it when Lola Kirke posted this photo. She is the saint (and sinner) I first fell in love with on Mozart in the Jungle; but now I follow her also as a musician.
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