The night before the battle,

Holding each other beneath the Great Oak,

Knowing this night must come to pass,

We know we may never see each other again.

Two unlikely warriors,

Engaged in the art of love making.

As a sacred vow of our Eternal Love.

Within the caresses,

Beneath the tiny kisses,

Lies the tears of possibility.

It is likely we will die tomorrow,

And we will see each other in the life beyond.

For love like ours knows no bounds.

The gates of Heaven or Hell will keep us apart.

Then within that night,

Behind the bushes lies a frightened bigot,

Who shoots them dead with arrows,

Beneath the Mighty Oak.

----Elliot Somers