Holding onto the light she stepped down onto the path.
Hoping for something beautiful to come her way.
So jealous of the things she doesn't have, she passed up on what was
always right before her. Kind and gentle, soft and tender.
He followed without question. Waiting for the day she'd look
upon his face and see him. To busy searching for what others had.
Missing the one thing that she truly wanted.
Tired and warn from the path she'd pulled him along.
Desperate and cold he found warmth in another.
Sweet and honest, she held him so close and gentle.
And he knew that all these years that which he was following
was only meant to lead him here.

(This is an old poem I wrote years ago. Can't even remember the year I wrote it.)