..and I won't tell

In the autumnal forest,

Down the crooked lane,

Where reds blend through

orange and into yellow.

In the quietest place,

Where horses are free,

And no one can see.

That is where he waits.

With the softest gentle smile,

he moves in the shadows

of  ancient trees, and the horses,

they follow him.

And he waits there for his love.

....

...

..

.