Shee

          The grey trunk divided rose up to heaven with its black limbs.
          The leaves lay about the forest floor; autumn in its desolation.
          She was a vision thrown down; achorns about her.
          Freya rose softly beneath the forked tree. The sun shown bright
          on her golden hair and soft white skin.
         
          The emerald eyes of an angel; turns in him like a stone.
          A thousand acres of forgotten autumn leaves suround them.
          The earth and heaven stand silent before her heaving chest.
         
                "The sun has roll'd some.
                The moon will be up soon.
                We should get back."

          His back is cold with sweat. Her words echo in the barren forest.
          The air grew dense as they kissed and clutched. The lady slid
          easy against the forked tree: her hands held up on either side.
          What unholy cross was this of lover's embrace?

          An awfull roar arose. The lovers sweet vine was broken.
          A bear had caught the sent of flesh and meat.
          There on native ground fingers, hair and skull were cast around.
          What thoughtless force would be so unkind?


          ~~~
            <^>