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The eager rapt fervidness of my intense determination to meet my 
love in this beautiful meadow meets me with utterly charming silence.
He will be along shortly, I tell myself. He is sometimes late.

With sheer reverence I still my soul, feeling an unnatural amorousness 
as I walk toward my destiny, with my pretty skirt, flipping against my legs.
I have dressed prettily, and my hair is bouncing.

Twilight has never looked so beautiful. I love this meadow with vehemence 
as I note the dainty clover, Queen Anne’s lace, and wild daisies.  
I feel powerful, and sexy as I approach the most beautiful woods in the universe, the best mother nature has to offer. I sit on our rock, the large boulder of granite, our place.

Star’s effervescence helps to perpetrate a lack of concern or disquietude as I 
wait for my man.  
He is often late. This is nothing. 
He will be here.  He is not good about time, that is all.  
No one else can satisfy my hunger or quench my thirst, 
and we both know it. 
I am not sure who knows it better, and I do not care.

I shower the meadow with heartfelt veneration, thanking her for providing us
with a place we can call home.  
A magical place, where we can talk and laugh, into
the night, disturbing no one. 
Where we can get a glimpse of a deer or a squirrel,  
and smile knowingly at each other about it in our secret language.  

A shadow takes a step out of the woods. It is him. 
A perpetual latecomer, but ever so welcome. 
I open my arms, understanding the melody of young love 

better every time we meet in this magical forest.

Written February 11, 2019        Contest:  Free Verse Love Poem
Sponsor:  Lu Loo 
 *I like all of your signs. That is so generous. Especially number 6.

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