The heart I long to love
beats,
its rhythm steady
and constant for me,
stable, an anchor,
a docked boat,
moat-free,
as I drift towards it
from the open sea;
beneath the lighthouse,
it patiently waits
for the moonbeams
to guide me in on the wake
of the passed past
abating
from pounding waves
to the ripples that carry me
the right way,
exactly into the right bay,
where that heart
I long to love
has for so long
kept wait,
its beacon-beat
calling only for
me,
and I forever
stay.
Laura Denise 