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.