Yearning

Yearning,
I never knew the meaning of the word,
it feels like an illusive magnet,
ducking and dodging behind trees,
you play tag, trying to mend your fingertips,
with a warmth only touching it could bring,
the softest silk feels like the edge of a razor,
in comparison to the comfort it holds.
Absence feels like a curse,
and time stands idly by,
apathetic to your beating heart,
moments become treasures,
memories become a way of life,
sustaining the last of hope,
between the tangled tresses of a reverie.
The need, so strong it could pull a mountain,
on the back of a horse,
yet still not crush what walks beneath,
removing obstacles from what lies between.
There is only one foe to yearning,
it is when the star that you seek,
doesn't want to be found,
or ne'er wishes to be seen.  

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

You are such a beautiful Poetess, Aramey...this spoke to me...I felt it...it's something I feel...a deeply profound poem...instant fave. :)

[Aramey]

Thank you :) I was really excited about posting this one. Something inside me begged for it to be said. So glad you enjoyed it too.

[Everett DeValle]

And enjoyed your poem as I always enjoy reading you, Aramey. :)

You are very welcome my dear friend. :)