Waiting for a home

It is dark here. And I can take so many roads.
Is it dark there ? Are there many roads before you ?
Then,
lets hold hands. And walk.
Through all those seasons, the full moons, so many
circles of flowering months, so many
births and deaths.
Somewhere on the way, did we part.
And for so long, kept on walking.
Then, once,
when the night set and all the cycles
went to sleep, i looked out
for those reflections, memories, and how far away we are.
yet, in my hand, i felt your soft fingers
still waiting for its home.