She set up a tent beneath unfulfilled longing,
Slept on the ground where the mem’ries were fresh;
Morning was wet with a sense of belonging
To somebody somewhere, in spirit and flesh
Spanning the camp, she discovered a river,
Fresh flowed the water from mountains above:
Washing her face, she exhaled with a shiver
The unfulfilled longing
Of being
In love
This is beautiful. 🙂
Thank you. This is a piece I wrote this time last year and revised to try to get closer to the story that the woman I was describing told me about a camping trip she took alone.