Shaded woods between our houses;
You run to me and I to you.
Your father’s dapper blue suit;
My mother’s pearls.
Delicate lady lace and feathers.
Your freckles stand out under this
Waning summer moon.
Shall I know love this night?
Or is it still too soon?
Your hands lower me down onto
Her sea stained bow.
The smell of bog and salt hang in the air
Oppressing my youthful lung.
Shove off......
From the furrow,
To the silver sea.
Where is this you intend to take me?
Gentle lapping of the blacked
Tide is the only voice I hear.
I feel you glance my way,
Through the strands of auburn hair
Tousled round my face.