you know me;
i can't be tied down.
my soul wants to travel and explore,
and it has a focus on its own growth and maturation.
but when i'm seventy, it is your memory i will still bear and,
on occasion,
lament
and sometimes cry over,
happily or in sorrow,
for i will know not the reason i chose to sail over
and join the seasoned veterans in the battlefields of MU,
with you, my dear Blue Jay, still at home,
fighting the war taking place over there,
with the children and yourself
and without me.
think, should i not return, sometimes of me as well;
for it was a promise we once made--
that we wouldn't forget.