[Old Sarge]

Walk with me, my Dearest Friend,
upon the grass at dawn,
dewfall cooling on our feet
gliding 'cross the lawn.

Steaming cocoa in our hands,
vapors rise in greeting,
frames you as you shyly smile
"Good Morning", at our meeting.

For as we stroll upon the grass,
this quiet, healing morning,
I'll let no dark tales hither come
of love that died a-borning.

Rather, let us walk and speak
of fey-realm journeys pleasant,
Here, in our bower, just we two,
with just our friendship present.

[Soaring Feather]

Rather, let us walk and speak
of fey-realm journeys pleasant,
Here, in our bower, just we two,
with just our friendship present.

Good morning Sarge. Absolutely lovely poem. This last stanza is so very sweet in detail. Strong images. Really good work.