On a winding road near the Great Fountain I took his hand in mine, Citrus smells wafted on a Spanish breeze

inviting our senses to dine, And Federico smiled the same old way like he had in days gone by, But somehow it was tainted bitter as I looked at the bruise on his eye. The insects sing loudly our serenade to walk us to our fateful end, Our tired feet drag as slow as the afternoon for me and my friend, Whilst the soldiers mock and taunt us with words harder than stone, Awareness ever present that their rifles cut through hearts and bone. His hair is still as dark as the ravens who feast on the corpses here, It has waves that shame the ocean and curl softly carressing each ear, A swollen lip talks but I hear nothing of the poetry he once recited, My attention is caught by his tone of lost hope words sadly blighted. But our fingers entwine as my hand shakes with strain we are under, How he can remain so calm in the face of our foe to me is a wonder, They look at us with sneers our politics wrong our minds too open, How countrymen can turn on one another we could never know then. A scarlet bird flutters from the branches and makes the guards jump, Red for the blood they have spilled today brings to my throat a lump, I swallow in one long gulp forcing down the bile and sick from fear, But Federico is by my side and there is much solace that he is near. The smeared white cotton of his shirt will soon be crimson soaked, Another bird chases after his mate and amongst the ivy is cloaked, If only we two were as lucky to fly to freedom and live as we wish, I would happily sing of our love and feed you on berries and fish. From the bushes as I pass I pluck some ripened currants for us to eat, A last meal perhaps and I turn my eyes downward in quiet defeat, My Poet raises my chin and kisses me with the tenderest of touch, wrath and hurt us much, Despite how it will inflame our captors And in that moment when words fall silent and we are alone, I am the Ruler of his heart and he has placed me on the throne. Hear the bees and see the poppies amongst the fields about us, We do not mourn our views and will no longer make a fuss, As we kneel together facing and he touches his forehead to mine, A click of the trigger ready and we know it is finally the sign. Tears of joy he says as he cries without shame and hugs me hard, Falling to a single bullet passing through us both a deathly shard, Could it be seconds I see him before the sight fails and is cloud, My resolution refuses to waiver and Federico makes me proud. Muted insects fly about our unmarked grave as if to listen well, Someone somewhere is reciting his poems caught in their spell, And surely as they do new life and thoughts bring us pleasure, I take the words from my Poet s hand and see them as a treasure.