Poem #30 Lavender

68 9 8
                                        

Something Forbidden.
Something tragic.
And a wee bit of magic.
A heathen.
A priest.
An never ending exile.
In some storm covered isle.
So far from the East.
But under the same sky.
But far from the mountains high.
Just lavender scented air
No worries, no care.
No judgement nigh.
No hierarchy, no kings.
No sounds of bells.
just songs of their tales.
And matching wedding rings.
Two men,
A priest and a heathen.

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