Initials carved so deep on tree, For out on limb, and world to see, That there with blade, we sat on fence, In tender adolescence.
Of duty, sweet – a gentle thing; Our promises left to suspend, In fire light at dawn of day. Made embers from mahogany.
How quickly went that season, too, Where once the scent of floral glue, Was lost to youth, with brittle hearts, Now swallowed whole our woodland art.
But, seeds of feeling sewn that day, Will yield anew, a wild display, As you and I become the wood, And first love is understood.
...
A signed print for the winning bid is included.
