She waits for me
In the meadow across the way
Shy and contained
Her love reaches
There is a brook
Quick and spirited where
She laments my passing
She thinks I do not see her
Every day I pass
Hoping for a glimpse of her
Not knowing she hides in the trees
Hoping for the same
I continue alone
Forsaken it seems
I think I can feel her
Want to know her
It has been centuries
But time has no place here
One of these days
We will both see
highland poetry 