You say that you are waiting.
I will wait with you.
We can walk alone
but I will still feel your hand in mine,
remember the steps that we took to here,
fingers interlaced like the weaving of our paths
and I will try not to run, pummelling towards what is not yet real.
Our love is tenacious.
Louder than either of these fearful hearts cared to hear
And that volume pounds in mine still.
Matches my footprints
as I take my road.
I am waiting too.
Waiting to know that
our love was meant for something,
that it wasn't just a seed
tossed carelessly into dry earth,
but tucked lovingly into fertile soil,
planted with prayer.
That we are still growing,
That the work of now
is for the work of a forever
that although we cannot know
we can use our hope to light these paths we travel alone.
I wait with you
in awe of the times
we have walked apart before,
and walked apart together,
and welcome each and every road less travelled.
We have never followed a map before
why would we start now.
So, love of mine,
take your path
and I will take mine.
and waiting for what is waiting for us.
As published by Elephant Journal: http://