Would that love be simple

a quiet wood, whispering breeze

to follow its journey

whistling through the trees.

~

In wintertime a naked forest

glance upon the exposed

a vulnerable sort

this is our humanity.

~

When once there might sparkle

beauty in our own naive wonder.

We did then dream, wish we

might carry on, silent mystique.

~

For is it want drives our soul

beyond this need felt once while.