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It was the year of the plan
and we stood at the wall
your hand in mine the grandeur of it all
we looked over all we had ruled
under sun and moon ...when lavender drifted
over the walls and onto our garments
through the rills
as we strolled castle gardens over the hills
in the dusk of night.

In twilight long I remembered the vow
that summer would not separate us
nor would the fall
but the snows have fallen
leaves long gone from limbs of trees
and the tales of battles sigh on the breeze.
The flax long beaten into fabric so fine...
while the battle scarred hand of yours reaches for mine.

Yes, the year of the plan has gone on as deemed
the rings around Saturn remain the same
the number of stars glimmer so soft
like the eyes of a new born calve in the loft.
The tendrils of new grasses grow tall
while together once more we walk through the hall.

So it must be this season of war
so we must wait and watch the plan unfold
and never forget the days of old.
valiant knight off you go...

bentfeather
02.24.05