Sacred keep the mountain view, The candor caravan of Capulet.
Now only slow Summer days to savor.
Sweet lips press the cup to satisfy,
My Lady's apple pie, the Kettle River...
Fleeting moments travel pass.
This standing so all alone.
Heaven's gate on blue bird wings.
Warm arms reach out to touch,
Her wished for dreams before cast.
What difference thought we,
On pine papered poems of love,
Sent in secret,
Passed down from above,
Below the kins knowing mind.
Before the water came,
Lightening, thunder, darkness in the rain.
Sacred sent in secret,
Still standing all alone,
Damn, the caravan of Capulet.
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