This is love
never will it be
but we are it
through the ground
and the trees.

Our roots meet water
that once was the sea
flowing like loves floating
in a comfortable breeze.

The ocean is where my soul needs to be
but just a taste teases me.
Leaves me in wondering captivity.

These branches reach out far and wide
not enough, needs more skies.

Waiting, waiting, anticipating.
Designating, waiting waiting.....