There is a place, quite far from here;
Where bushes hide a lonely bench,
A redundant swing accompanies,
Both sheltered by o'erhanging trees,
Like a whisper in the dark.
At nighttime we were often there;
Would hear few passers-by go by,
Never knowing our true bent,
Little guessing we were present,
In this realm we came to love.
We'd be entwined in nature's lair;
A starlit night embraced our state,
We laid out dreams, ambitious plans,
Held tight as though time's speeding hand,
Would heave us out into the cold.
As chanceless lovers we would fear;
That bittersweet imposing fate,
That hour to come where we should leave,
That sacred covenant of trees,
And thus rejoin the human fold.