Down is the sunlit site of a mile end road

These creeping oaks that mask a violet sky

Kicking roadside and smelling honesuckle row,

The lawyers and ladies keep passing by

Sweet smell, sweet smell of nostril scent

That’s hanging sweetly on the bow.

My nose is struck with value, heaven sent,

If sweeter since is sickly now.

I land myself between two towering oaks,

The markings laid down on the ground

All between, the centuries blood croaks

In the markered hills without a sound

Cries of little children in the heat of day

Bent, broken and tossed out.

By summer’s end, they’ll all have prayed,

For them to end their season of doubt

Onward I stare for the moon night eyes,

A thousand souls cast pale for night

The youth hath said their last goodbyes,

Ended, they shine forever bright