The Siren and The Satyr

by Joanna

Strewn amongst the leaves
Hoof prints obscure stems
Broken in haste
As the foot scampers through
Engendered not
The leaves begin decay
Movements quicken
Steep hills
Traversed with ease
A mournful voice
Echoes amidst the land of lovers lost
Movement slows
A rose petaled cheek
Meets rough hands
and the courtship begins