Soul

In her plight,

she searched.

With courage,

she surged.

In moments,

she was frozen.

Heart was easily

broken.

Lost she found

herself to be.

Infinitively, she thought,

positively.

With the light,

she saw hope.

And her feet,

longed to lope.

The branches tore

her pure golden flesh.

Beauty she was,

and no less.

She sought Love:

she had said yes.

But not to a ring,

or to a hand.

Simply yes to a gift,

a shore a ship could land.

More than anything,

she knew Love was hers.

But now, missing,

she had to search.

To find it,

one had to look.

But, it wasn't an object:

Love,

a soul,

took

time to weave it,

and care to bake it,

a sprinkle of hope to savour it,

and a

Spirit

to seize it.