The Nymph

She sits on her rock,
I watch from below.
Her hair, brown locks,
Swept over her naked shoulder.

Entranced I can’t break free,
For her smile is captivating.
She knows not what she does
To me and I and mine.

This nymph teases,
I sweat through,
The pain never eases,
For its only ever been you.

The Virgin Land

The shallow blue waters,
The curves and bends of the land,
Bumps, and hils, so imperfect, yet perfect.
Untouched by man, it is better.

The long grass, covered with damp morning dew,
In the deep valley between the mountains.
A man would be afraid to touch,
To go near, in fear of destroying the land.