An old bull he was
Still strong and proud.
The king as far
As the fence allowed.
Outside the fence
A flower bloomed.
The old bull's world
It soon perfumed.
By the flower's beauty
He was enslaved.
To be with her
Was all he craved.
Over the fence
He stretched his neck.
To give a kiss,
A tender peck.
He brushed her petals
With his lips.
A drop of nectar
Not even a sip.
Her fragrant scent,
Her taste divine.
An opiate.
The finest wine.
In his bullish ways,
In primitive heat
His lovely flower
He did eat.
He did not regret
Taking the flower.
But now he passes
The lonely hours.