Sitting here home alone.
I think yes dream back to before.
Of what was, when two lovers met.
Two young souls falling forever in love.
Forging a life together.
Conquering the surround wheat fields.
Was it kismet on that warm July evening?
Walking hand in hand.
Stopping to make love under the ancient oaks.
Taken and taking
As fireflies lite our passion.
I look out my window this late February.
And see our family plot under the ancient oak trees.
Three weathered headstone sit.
Our mark on this land.
The land two lovers conquered.
