The
lovers took to the mountain
and lay under the sun in the grass,
his hand on her thigh. She said, I cannot
surrender a gift so precious but
this memory will be yours to keep.
She laid his hand on her breast. The
sweet swell of succulent flesh took form
within his dreams, that place where
wishes and fantasies belie the
reality of rejection on the mountain.
His moment, escaping like a hare
spooked by an approach too sudden, has
passed—plans which were carefully lain.