Your travels haven't been kind or comfortable.
I can tell. You are tired, wherever you go
you are left stranded, stuck with so much love
inside you and noone to give it to.
I wouldn't know what to do with it either. I still dont.
Such yearning for just a sip of water.
Shade or cold water on hot afternoons,
or what else it is that you need, I am that.
And you are here now so feast, my love.
I offer you all I have, although it isn't much.
Slake your thirst, eat your fill.
Rest your weary bones here.
In the morning, if you like I,
have forgotten this, then let us have this
most delicious of delusions. It too will fade.
You or I will realize that we have been mistaken.
And we will wake up and sit there
quietly, taking it. A part
of the journey, not it's end. An oasis
not the destination.