He could be the wind,
stroking slightly across my face.
He could be the sand,
calling me to follow.
He could be the sky,
too far to reach.
The only assurance,
I can't be his.
If he were wind,
He would soon fly away.
    If he were sand,
      He'd soon be mud.
        If he were the sky,
           yes if he were so high,
               my touch to his tender skin,
                   would never be.
The only assurance,
                                       I can't be his