Hot august day in the wilderness,
stabbed in the back by razor sharp rays and
no shade till I stumbled into
a vale and rested in the cool shade between
the mountain lady’s inviting thighs.
At the narrowest point her fountain clear,
protected by thorny bushes and with bleeding hands
I pushed my way through her defenses,
fell into a virginal lake
Where I swam and drank the lake’s sweet essence.
Lingered by her lips till my heart was cured of its sorrow
and when I left a bed of buttercups, where
only thorny bushes used to grow, smiled to
the setting sun.