scotland, celtic, aging the war against the english, times of old, hard times poverty hardships
For he gave me a thistle, a purple glory wrapped up in his cloth. Nothing more was said as i rode ith him on his stallion, the wind in my hair taking my breath away. I held on tightly to him my arms around his waist. He is my prince, my charming man, my celtic dream.
The rain started coming down, firstly ever so lightly and then as we galloped along the meadows and amounsgt the bracken it turned black as night. Soaking us right through, but i felt no cold as i held on tightly. He was strong and powerfull, sat tall in his tartan, wide on this mahongany dream of a horse. His Heather, he called her and mighty fine she was too.
"I want to marry you' he laughed as we stopped by the leet. This playfull Jock who had captured my heart from a very young age, taught me how to fish, lay traps for rabbits, and skinny di[[ed with us all young folk as if it was today.
'your my angel, my love, all that I think about as I plan the fight for our home land'. his words filled my ears as his heart did mine.
"I will love no other, for this life and ever beyond" He sighed and then kissed me as I hispered that I too am his for all of today, tomorrow and beyond.
It was one of a moment that flashed before my eyes just as I died. One of several, of my shortened days.