Morning mist hung dreamily over the forest’s lake,
in the glade Bambi stood stock still looking pretty,
while I sat on a rock patting my pockets to see
if I had any siggies left.
At that moment
she came shimmering out of the lake,
the nymph with long golden hair
that covered her nudity.
As she glided passed me
her stomach rumbled
which I thought was cute
it made her human and approachable.
‘Morning Solveig, looks like it’s going to be a fine day?’
‘My name isn’t Solveig, it’s Xanthippe
and I think it’s going to rain later’
‘Crumbs!’

For the next two hours she nagged me,
a man she had never met before,
Bambi was still standing there looking pretty,
but it was an image,
a fond picture in my mind.
Bark on trees shrivelled and pale leaves fell off oaks
as the echo of her voice, rumbled through the forest.
Mid-morning the nymph had metamorphosed into a bad tempered witch
with a broom brushing the path to her cave
while complaining about fallen, mouldy leaves and animal droppings!
And I was thinking of a mermaid of bronze forever silent sitting on a rock,
yet when seeing her I can hear the ancient song of the seas.