The Yew tree is old, gnarled but distinguished with age. Proud and handsome it cherishes the memories of the last two centuries in it’s branches and leaves. The years have passed with the steady tick of it’s ancient clock, beating steadily within it’s trunk, though fainter now than before.The tales it could tell, if only it could talk… The Yew tree, strong and sturdy, green and lush, gave welcome shelter from the hot english sun. The young woman smiled coyly, matching her suitor’s stare, watching and waiting. He moved suddenly towards her and reached out this hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She laughed and playfully pushed him away, a gentle but firm rebuff. His slight look of annoyance soon passed, swiftly replaced by longing, frustration. If she noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it, she moved away and bade him farewell and then she was gone. The weeks passed, and the couple met every now and then beneath the Yew tree’s protective embrace. The seasons changed and the leaves in the surrounding woods mostly turned deep shades of brown and russet, then promptly withered and spiralled to the ground. The temperature dropped and the days swiftly shortened, but the sun still shone and the couple still met, whenever they could. She continued to be aloof, he continued to be persistent but respectful. She was dark and alluring, with a hint of a french accent which only served to make her more appealing. Long brown hair framed a slightly gaunt pale face, not beautiful but definitely attractive, seductive even. He was stocky and strong, handsome in a rugged sort of way, and arrogant in his own self importance. Patiently he was biding his time, but was quietly confident she would soon fall for his charms. She would be worth the wait. The temperature dropped further and the fields around turned sparkly white with frost. The spectacular shimmering carpet of white, randomly dotted brightly with scarlet red berries, the starkness of the colour like drops of blood. They arrived once more and this time, the iciness of the landscape served him well, as she shivered and her steely resistance began to falter. She allowed him to lend her his coat, luxuriating in the warmth of his body still lingering in the lining. She sighed and pulled it close around her, flirting, laughing, smiling. Her hair fell loose, and she tossed it carelessly back, her eyes not leaving his and he was mesmerised, transfixed, but always in control. Two weeks later, they met again, in secret, in moonlight. The air between them was tense, charged with unspoken thoughts. Something had changed, each word, each glance lingered longingly in the snowy air. Murmured words, soft and fuzzy, urgent and romantic. A tension between them, lovers on the brink of a future together, hopes and dreams ahead of them. Then whispered words - ‘Will you marry me? You must, I will not take no for an answer.’ A question, an order? But she smiled and said yes and sank into his arms. She looked up at him, happy, her eyes filled with trust and hope, all formalities gone, she would be his, this is what she wanted, had wanted for a long time. The Yew tree listened in expectation, proud and excited to witness this momentous moment. It strained to hear to their final words before they dissipated in the cold Winter wind. “My Anne Boleyn, you are mine, my future Queen.” “My Henry. My husband. My King” The Yew tree proudly cradled them together standing there in each others embrace. They lingered there for a couple of hours, happy in each other’s company. Excitedly making plans, after all, there was a royal wedding to organise. The Yew tree, if (it could speak), would tell you of it’s hopes and dreams for them. A happy future together as husband and wife and their son, a Prince, playing beneath it’s branches. A King and his new Queen, bringing hope and prosperity for England. That was the last time the Yew tree ever saw them. But deep down the Yew tree knew. Change was coming. ‘The Yew tree believed the fairy tale The love, romance and laughter The baby prince they would surely yield The happy ever after!’