Two Lovers Living in the Forest

My lover and I have made our home in the forest.  When we came here, 13 years ago,  the forest was thick and grew several feet over the river.  There was only an old logging road in, taken back by the forest. We would sit in the forest, and I would tell her, “This is where our home will be.”  She could only see it in my words.  We eventually carved out a little section, cleared it, built a seawall, a dock, and a small studio with a wood stove.  We would come on weekends and holidays, working diligently planting new trees, flowers, making a home with the forest, and all the wild things that live here.  We have grown old here, and now someone else is building for us.  I now sit in our little studio, drinking coffee, listening to Nat King Cole, yoked in the shell of the new home.  There is something dear here, our first home buried deep inside our new home, like a favorite memory, of life long ago, of two lovers sitting in the woods dreaming of what would become our life, our life in our home in the forest.