Sylvan Mistress clad in green

Silver and verdant standing upon the sea

With eyes that immolate resistance

Supple toothsome lips

And thin teal hair under a proud vestal crown

The sapphire steppes converge upon her breast

As she lets me touch Her like a God would touch Her

Her skin preternaturally green. Eyes that stare

The strength of Her long athletic legs overpowering mine

Wooden fingernails perch into my arms leaving a sharp rasp

Her naked wrists branching from my shoulders

Our lucubration leaving Her ever powerful

And I bottled up in a jade glass jar

Resting upon Her thigh as She wanders the woodlands

Alone

My sweet plastered snowflake

You are not like the rain

Soaking my face on a bad day

You are but my failed misfortune

I have not won but I have no lost

Oh, how you fall freely in the copse

Your inclement touch — a fortune passed by

Your clipped wings making you fall in full swoop

Until you come crashing upon my soft crisp hands

Oh, you are not like the frost

Freezing my already broken skin

You are the one who deepens my cry song

Like the foreign, traveling bird

Or on the carpet, my butterfly