If on a winter's night a traveller
Were to share our bread and wine,
What a tale he would take home!
With my love's hand in mine, her whisper sweet,
We will spin a fine yarn to tuck in our young-
With love, grit, respect, beauty and life!
Later, with the traveller well and gone,
And we, in our bedroom, together alone apart,
Lies in between, we will think of our past.
In another land, bartering dignity for abuse,
Future hanging from the noose, tired and angry,
We did not even plan to pass on the mantle.
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