Each morning, the tide bows low,
but I do not rush to meet it.
I have learned—love
is not in the chase,
but in the waiting.
Years pass in waves,
some loud with longing,
others soft with shared silence.
You, my calm horizon,
never drift far.
There is a strength in slowness,
a truth in taking our time—
two women, hands weathered with care,
holding a love
steady as a turtle’s path.
We do not need storms to prove us,
only the simple return
to each other, again
and again—
like the sea to the shore.
© Susie Stiles-Wolf
-
Author:
GeekSusie (
Offline) - Published: September 12th, 2025 19:00
- Category: Love
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu
Offline)
Comments2
This is a great poem
Most wonderful metaphor coincidentally very close to mine today as well. Nicely penned
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.