Wandering

As I wander through the forest,
I see her in the distance.
She too is wandering,
but not alone this time.

And many times before,
we have walked along together.
And many times before
we have parted ways.

Yet each time we rejoin
the bond grows ever stronger.
Each in awe and disbelief
of the love of the other.

And while the whisperings of others
like the rustling of leaves on a dark fall night
disturbed by some unseen hand or foot,
might make us question our heart.
We continue on the path.

For what ever reason we find ourselves apart,
the woods are not so large
that our paths may never cross.
And in each new meeting there is hope.

Not hope that you will change your mind,
nor hope that you'll come back.
But hope that some where we will find
the path that lets us walk together.

Not as acquaintances from some far distant meeting.
Not as friends from long ago,
nor even as friends with special privileges.
But as two souls who have met and in their meeting joined.

So that while they walk in separate shoes
and their paths may briefly separate,
all that know them know that,
they are one forever more.