The Bowman

It was the excellence and ability
Which drew her into his ranks.
The tension both light and firm
    His touch erotic in its strength

Tender and gentle in its pull
Wanting in its release
Her tension grew steadily with
   The drawing of his beast

For her, the time had come.
The silence as she reached
Matched the 'wisp' of the arrow
    As it sought so grand a peak

With perfect aim her body flexed
As precisely as the shaft
Freed, the arrow sought its target.
     A split second passed.

Declaring its release,
The Bull's eye he did claim
And the screams of their victory
     She sounded, in his name.

         My Bowman!