Across the beaten path of time,
Up the river bank dressed in thyme.
A broken soul waits to be met,
Complete only by the love I’ve kept.
She waits for me to sing,
a sonnet that speaks of everything.
Of deep kisses and late night phone calls,
Of adoration, joy, or nothing at all.
She can taste the words I speak,
She’s been swept right off her feet.
The breeze picks up,
Daylight rescinds,
Trees begin to dance in the wind.
I step towards her,
Hoping to feel her embrace,
I'm captivated by her unfaltering grace.
Suddenly,
The winds stop.
The trees stand still.
The water quiets.
The night is chill.
Back down the river bank dressed in thyme,
Back across the beaten path of time,
I’ve returned from the forest and the soul within,
With more energy than I can hold in.
The soul returns with me from above,
and she has become an outlet for my love.