They frolicked in the thin curtains hanging over the bed.
Rolling from sweat soaked pillows to the arms of their lovers.
Their limbs locked in wine fuelled bacchic passions.
And the bull headed man looked on.
His dark curls hung heavy.
His gaze was sultry and uncommitted.
He watched and congratulated the humans.
What he saw was lust.
What he felt was all but.
He saw the rising hoofs of shining stallions.
The undulation of sweat whitened flanks.
Frothing and steaming in bestial depravity.
He saw it all.
And took nothing.