The brightness of the moon
trickled through the trees.
The quietness was very soon
disturbed by a breeze.
The sound of tires on highways afar,
created an eerie picture
by the noise from the cars.

"Into the breech"
she said to me.
So into the breech
it will be.
Stand up to tyranny,
every single day.
It won't be long;
it will go away.

Away we will go,
like a kite in the wind.
Into the bluest of blue
in the cloudless sky.
Flit to the branch
of a new, growing tree,
catching the Sun
as it passes by.
Nothing could be more
grand, for those eyes
of mine to see,
a reflection in your eyes,
and an image of me.

The broad fields of green and gold,
with mountains high, that enfold.
the blue of lakes in your eyes,
slowly, slowly will mesmerize
my mind and it's thoughts
with over powering scent
of those Forget Me Nots.