In a grove where sunlight bends,
Through leaves and whispers, laughter ascends.
A nymph of hedonistic heart,
Dancing wild, a work of art.

Her hair a cascade, a golden flame,
Her eyes like stars, untamed, unshamed.
Barefoot she treads where rivers gleam,
Chasing pleasures, a fleeting dream.

She sips from petals, nectar sweet,
Sways to the rhythm of the forest beat.
Every touch, a spark, a fire,
Every glance ignites desire.

Time, to her, a fleeting jest,
No yesterday, no morrow to wrest.
Her joy spills free, unbound, unchained,
A soul where only passion reigned.

Yet beneath the mirth, a shadow lay,
A fleeting hint of life’s decay.
For pleasure’s feast, though rich and vast,
Cannot outpace the shadows cast.

But still she twirls, with reckless grace,
In pursuit of joy, her sacred space.
A hedonistic nymph, a fleeting muse,
Teaching us to embrace, not refuse.

C.