Tiptoe across creaking stepping stones
Quiet is a privilege for the wicked
Taking the hidden route between empty walls
To meet the one with the ticket
Gone with no light to brighten the path
Nothing to help the young flee
To see the love the other half
Of a woman who had never been free
What gossip would ensue if others knew
Of the two lovers little rendezvous
Gone would be their hideaway
But no pensive worry would come to pass
When all that matters is a love that would last
In a time of medieval gain
Thank you all for reading! Let me know you thoughts in the comments.
-Till next time!