A wall runs low against a dirt hill,
Made of cracked stone
And shattered granite.
Leafy greens climb up the wall
From the low side,
Creeping into its crevice.

A visit to the hill
Was not in my thoughts
As I was reminded by
My nightly sigh.
Perhaps it'd be better
To roll up the grass
And murmur musings
About my beloved.

So I turned away,
My shirt collar to the dirt.
Wind parting my hair as a
Whisper wisps by my ear,
"The green cracks await, my dear."

At a click,
My heart stopped.
Ecstasy poured through me
As my world rocked.
It was her:
My Queen.

And so we laughed
While we hung beneath a tree,
Two with nature
But one with me.