Jerusalem, 1277 AD

Here in the Holy Land,

My dreams are fitful.

Sleeping in a surcoat,

I dream of sweetmeats,

And the sophoric smoke

Of burgundy incense.

Long-lidded eyes watch me,

Their lashes stroking

The thin shimmer of

Black silk.

Hundreds of miles away,

I am surrounded by the new,

The exotic,

The rush of adrenaline

During battle.

But upon waking, alone,

My only desire is to be

In that rat-infested alley once more,

My cloak puddled around our feet

As we make desperate love,

Hidden from the eyes

Of the Templar.