Why am I scared
To make us
More than friends?

I'm glad I stayed today,
because now,
I'll be here tomorrow.

It is only until Death comes knocking at our door
that we realize we have never left the house.

I string up my hammock for two,
and lay in it alone,
listening to the trees whisper to one another.
How I long to hear their songs
and giggle to their stories
of centuries past and times forgotten.
The wind rocks me close to her *****
while the sun shines down on the children
hoping from flower to flower and between blades of grass.
But my eyes grow heavy, and I struggle to stay.
Then I hear them,
laughingly say,
rest now child;
all is well.

A road less traveled
is one I follow
as a child of loss
and sorrow.
I weave a path
of smoke and ash
to burn the memories
of days past.

May we meet again.
Someday not too far.
To give us time to heal,
and feel once again.
On a sunny day with wet grass.
By lakes of crystal and trees of brass.
Through burrowed Mountains we shall run,
to reach peaks of power and fortitude.
Where we two will be one,
once again whole and full,
and no longer looking to the shadows
for food.
But until that time...
let us wander a bit more,
until we are ready to come home.