Sometimes in moments
in between the trees
as my feet fall quiet on the walk,
I feel a tug that lists me slightly
to the left

and must remind myself

I’m through with pining,
through with indulging
that restless loneliness
that knows not what it wants
but feels bereft

I must remember

There isn’t anything
that, if I had, would make me happy,
there isn’t anything I lack,
and what I need
I carry here within me
and when I’m feeling lost,
it brings me back.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 23, 2016