Fields of flowers, yields of apples, dancing and prancing:
Pretty girls, brown-eyed Julietta, and Annette was brunette;
One was rosette for the other, who for her played clarinet;
Like one, the two played and prayed, and together stayed,
Never strayed in love, like turtle doves, in beauty arrayed.
Annette and Julietta, two blossoms of near-flawless promise,
Budding in form and warm affection; rouge lips for lips
And sips of sweet nectar from growing gardens free flowing;
Arm in arm walks, heart to heart talks, sharing one soul clock;
Miles of smiles, skipping and prancing, stripping and swimming.
Annette and Julietta, one silhouette of finest courtly minuet,
Vignette of an angelic song sung by the stars far flung in sky
Of cloudless night, darkly bright; they lay in softly breeze,
Roll and teasingly squeeze to please, immune to the disease
Of the unkind of stony hearts, closed minds, and spirits blind.
Annette and Julietta, grown and storm-blown but sewn together,
Not to be torn; they were sworn in ever-union so soon as born;
Dancing still across the hills, laughter filled the air so fair;
No snare nor care could quench hot flare of their love affair;
And the maze of their days were unpretentiously venturesome.
Many cried, “scandalous,” while others were simply jealous;
Pharisees were zealous; only few thought it something to relish,
And hellish hours flowed like scours for Annette and Julietta,
And though they moved deep into forest keep, and did not weep,
Still they could not leap for joy nor sleep in heavenly peace.
Yet remains flower fields, apple yields, dancing and prancing,
And eternal joy, where bright stars ring and their voices sing,
And left here now only intertwined bones on cold hard stones.