Where distant fields meld a chorus blue,
Of violets, daffodils, and yellow
Daisies of brightest hue: there we met, two
Lovers, hand in hand. I was a fellow:
You were a dame; and though gentle refrain
Kept us apart from one another's being,
As water droplets caught after a rain
In summertime's sunlit vapor, we in
Mock display of gentility stole kiss
After kiss underneath oak tree. Such bliss
Was better not condemned by Holy See,
But t'was done so, and we were not to be.
For where two lovers lie without a pact
Their love becomes a fiction, not a fact.

                 Fictitious, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012