The Forrest

Pre-dawn, my surroundings seem far away,
in the dark.
I hear the trees whisper our secret,
stirred by the wind.

The cold, dry air burns my lungs, panting,
Chasing after some ideal of what I should be.
Miserable conditions, but you are near,
Keeping step with me.

The dawn breaks, your beauty revealed,
Your voice speaks,
My discomfort is healed.