I cannot go with you all the way. There will come a time when I will have to leave. There will come a time when I will have to rip my hand from yours, turn around, and return to the sea. I try to walk in a different fashion, my love, but my roots will not take and my heart is a wandering, wild thing, longing for the salt and the rolling tide, the wind that creaks the boughs of the trees, the covering of the tall oaks and cedars, the sky that stretches for days and days on.
Posts tagged #rove