i found a rock fat with moss and sat upon it
thinking of rolling to the bottom of the hill
where i knew you’d be waiting my arrival
i didn’t want to leave my perch just then
so i pondered the mysteries of blue skies
green grass and rain-dark trees singing
in the wind to themselves arms aloft
i pictured you as a light-shy sylvan elf
stalking about in the shadows below
or as an owl peering from tree’s hollow
grimacing down on the world at large
why am i picturing you as grumpy?
dark and rumpled and crochety
like an old bear awakened early from sleep
i’m suddenly shy, unsure and afraid
will you tread on my spritely pixie toes?
i’m tiptoeing timidly down to meet you —
and there you are at last, light-kissed
sun-dappled, smiling bashfully back
the leaves tracing patterns on your face …
and so the rolling stone came home
to you, and you sat with me on a pillow
of moss under the shade of the willows
Beautiful piece. I loved the rollercoaster ride of thoughts and the second guessing of the heart. Thank you.