Honeysuckle

Disapproval sent them through the forest to the village’s edge. And there in a field of barley they met that warm July day.

Hidden by hedgerow their love they affirmed away from prying eyes and scolding tongues. And the twisting vine, beside the girls entwined, sweetly perfumed their tryst.

Its curling tongue would never tell the secrets it heard them whisper.

And as the day slipped gently into eve they each took a woody stem and wove it round with locks of their hair. Raven tresses spun with gold. Their undying love declared as they swapped rings with a kiss.

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