Take me to the forest

where the gods play silently

under the great branches.

We speak in a whisper

and you take my hand.

You and I under the oak.

Haming gods

take our breath away.

They won't hear us

and we are, forever.

We'll lie in the shadows

the scent of grass.

And I hope to make with a smile

and not a sigh,

under the starlit sky.