When you come to my thoughts You are none other than the billowy embodiment of a reminiscent memory and also a current everlasting longing You are the memory of a being or idea one can feel and remember vividly but can not zero in on, for you are the intangible the winding wind You are those spiraling twines that place intermittent along grapevines You are the ancient scrolls from wise days before paperback You are the spin in the reaching center of a handcrafted wreath And within all these individualities and collective, Lies your scent comprised of multiple scents You are the mighty togetherness Your arrival to earth escaping from birthΒ Β gave these words to the minds of the kind You are the winding wind who spins and twines, wreathes and scrolls who lands from time to time and when you do drop for a spell This location of harboring landfall is a day of new tradition, the first step you take on new land on that new day Becomes the origin of a new holiday In my thoughts you are the mortar of the earth