Rooted

She had this inconceivable way of making you feel wanted.

If I was the dark, and stormy cloud 

she was the sunset on a clear night all oranges, and pinks in the sky.

She was the sea mist kissing at your nape, and I was the midnight current

cold, dark, and uncontrollable.

She brought a light into my life that was never there to begin with.

If I were a tree she was my roots, and she kept me firmly to the ground.

Without her I was just an oak pulled from the dirt, dying.

Author's Note

unedited.