Walking in the wet meadow grasses
Barefoot
Picking wildflowers
and holding your hand

Listening to you as you speak
Of your dreams
and of sharing, a most precious of gifts with me
The gift of your love

As I listen to your soft sweet words
My eyes fill with tears of happiness
Of want, and wonder,
and hope

Is this real
Am I really here
Or is this only a dream

We walk to the white barn
Laughing and teasing and head
toward the loft, with wonder and awe
of each other

We place my blue shawl on the soft hay
And our eyes meet and our lips touch
Then we are lost in our passions...
But, this is only a dream, unrealized