Wednesday, January 27, 2021

Night Time.

With heads laid on dry hay
By your side I'm pleased to stay
The stars shine in dark blue
But none shone as bright as you

The air smells of cut grass
A lullaby to our weary legs
The fruit of our labour
Will come in figs and flour and cakes

Tonight shall we retire
To our humble cottage
Within this fence secure
My love for you knows no age.

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