he
was a satyr
unbound
to anything
but
the bacchanalia.
she
was a dryad
bound
to her tree
alone
in the woods.
he
made it
a game
sneaking up on her
as she sat
in the branches.
she
gave quite
the scream
when
he reached up
to tickle her feet.
he
would stalk
about
the forest
drunk
on wine.
she
would wrap
flowers
amongst
the branches
and leaves.
he
loved her
in
the only way
he knew
how.
she
loved him
as well
in her
special
way.
he
was
a satyr
she
was
a dryad.
together
they
were something
straight
out of a
fairy tale.
their love
is something
that is
mything
in today’s
world.
This tickles my inner pagan. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
sometimes we forget to tickle our inner pagan, can lead to serious consequences
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha ~ true. Let none be left untickled for too long!
LikeLiked by 1 person
like the playfulness!
LikeLiked by 1 person