Soon...

Soon...
Soon she will come.
Great oak's eye,
Ever watchful.
Ne'er does she blink,
High in night's sky.

Upon the right.
Burning bright.
Shall be marked,
An oaken leaf.
Hidden from sight.
Just to the right.

Before yuletide come.
Surrounded by stone.
Noble of blood.
Pure of heart.
Guided by love.

Upon the right.
Burning bright.
Shall be marked,
An oaken leaf.
Hidden from sight.
Just to the right.

Made of greatness is she.
Injustouses made right.
Mend that which is broken.
Her reach is for the stars.
True love shall be...