Castle Cornet stood proud in the afternoon Channel Island sun. The centuries old

And worn facade that had withstood civil hostilities in the household

The Emperor, the writing of Hugo as he gazed down enquiringly from his exile and to

Those whose heinous crimes and morally tattered flag that still live in the minds of Guernsey folk.

The walls shook and trembled at our first meeting where I asked you the time

As you walked, wandered past me, youthful hips wiggled and laughed.

A sly scenic smile upon your lips that were three months older than mine