...

A whisper on the wind
carried news of your impending arrival

even the birds held their breath,
not even a twig deared snap in anticipation.

You were one one of
the 12 great mysteries of life.

But I  saw through you.

You took far more than I was willing to give unwittingly.

I am my own mystery,

so I whistled sweetly crunching on soft twigs
suffering all the hard stares and curses of the woods.

But, these are my woods,
my fields of green and my happiness never depended on you.

I wont hold my breath or on to any false hopes.

I know what there is to seek,
and what I don't want to find,

I know what I am.

Do you?