Áine

Wild languages, spake you and I
in meadows where the fairfolk hide
and wilder beasts who calmly bide
for you, their queen, with lowered eyes

“With me, beloved,” you pulled me nigh,
I promise you the bluest sky
that you’ve to see, and then we’ll lie,
our kisses laced with lanquid sighs.”

We danced for what seemed long as days
in verdant grass our bodies lay,
skin warmed by sunlight’s summer blaze
we wove ourselves like braided snakes

“Please stay with me,” my voice was dire,
said breathlessly, my skin afire
as late sun’s cinnabar retires,
a reverence to the moon inspired

“We have today,” you said to me,
so gentle, so insistently,
your pale skin gold as honeyed wheat
by setting sun’s own alchemy

We lay like tigers in the grass,
love spent, aroused, and spent at last,
by midnight’s spectral lūmen cast
each moment savored ‘fore it passed

In rhythmic breathing, there we lay,
my fingers memorized your face,
soon drowsing in our doomed embrace
our smiles on intimate display

I woke to morning’s light at last
no sign of my fair summer lass,
left mourning, our brief moment past,
my goddess in the summer grass.


One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.