My Life is... Poem

My Life is...
Stumbling over a log, picking myself up,
It’s dark, dank, and grit coats my mouth and nose.
I burst into the light.
I hear an explosive sigh,
It’s the trees, talking to me,
Whispering my name.
It’s hard; I make out a small item at the end of the clearing,
Someone’s walked this path already.
They left me a present,
It’s a small canteen.
I pick it up,
But it’s not what I expect.
It’s full of comforting words from my childhood,
Those kind, tender, words,
Uttered in my ear during dark nights.
As I drink in those words, a twig snaps,
There’s someone here with me,
It’s someone I know,
Someone who loves me,
I can’t see his face, but he’s there,
Maybe one day he’ll come out of the shadows…