The Pipes Of Pan
 by Teri Sharp
While walking on the windswept hill,
I suddenly felt an all-encompassing thrill,
For I had heard the pipes of Pan -
Notes of desire from the goat-footed man.
So sweetly he played his melody,
Strains of music heard only by me,
Drawing me into the stand of trees,
Caressing my body like the gentlest breeze.
Until, at last, our eyes did meet,
And I danced with the god of cloven feet,
Encircled by arms of soft, silken fur;
Unknown emotions I felt bestir.
Skyclad, we danced the circle of life -
Desire pierced me like a knife,
Until we rolled together on the grass -
Such pleasures did come to pass!
Well-muscled shoulders & strong, hard thighs,
A "horn" of love, beyond mortal size.
Drawing him down by his horns, to share a kiss -
Just the beginning of this act of bliss.
Rough, yet gentle - forbidding, yet full of mirth -
To the old pagan ways we gave rebirth.
His sensuousness filled me to the core,
Slowly caressing, until I begged for more,
Then wild & wanton, hard and fierce,
Coarse & shaggy - the thrill of the pierce!
Smiling, yet snarling - thrusting hard & deep,
Until we collapse in a satiated heap.
How can I ever be satisfied with mortal man,
Now that I've danced to the pipes of Pan! |
