Out of night
into day I strut from forest
And mint breeze sings
A platter of buttered scones
the daffodilled meadow spills
In this glade quenched with glee
the Irishman to tryst
I feel my heart lashing
a conga in orchestrated fate
Like a pastime highwayman
he sprints on his steed
hustles me into arms
kissing me deep
I bid farewell to sense
a life of routine
as into the valley far
from family village
we speed
Ryfkah 5/4/02
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