At six pm exactly, I go outside to be with Sidney.

It makes me feel close to him, despite being so far away.

The court martial was over so quickly.

It had been an unjust trial, and an unjust punishment.

I can visualise Sidney walking out onto the field.

He refuses the blindfold.

He is tied to the post, looking the firing squad in the eyes, showing defiance, despite these being his last-lived hours.

He is feeling the same breeze that I feel, the same wind that blows my hair blowing his hair.

I sing our lullaby softly.

"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green"

The sound from the shot echoes through the valley.

Then I do not stop the tears from falling down my face.

"When you are King, dilly dilly,
I shall be Queen"

I was not there for my brother; I was not there for Sidney.

I was not there for him in his last moments.

I think he would like his grave.

By a brook with a flowing river

He told me to not grieve for him, but to celebrate his life.

That was my brother. The brave soldier, Sidney