Where do you come from my friend?

After you leave where do you end?

Sometimes I wish for your return,

Other times I am glad you are gone.



There are times when you are gentle;

Your movements, soft, cold, and calm.

Then…on the next occasion you're brisk and strong.

Is there anyone who knows your secrets?



I wonder if they know where you have gone.

None who stands before you can win,

And the clouds? They need you to rain once again.

Oh, I wonder, can I give you my sin?



© William Power 2012