Waited For

("I long to be loved - to wake up wanting to live - not to be alone and untouched....")

I'm a desolate

mountain ash

found and felt

by a blind boy.

My bark is speech

beneath his touch;

my shadows cry.

In the warm dark

of the young earth

roots entwine,

growing is heard....

The boy longs in the

waking air:

his listening hands discover my worth.

To be loved is to be

waited for.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.