As I walk by my self I like to pretend
that what we have never will end.
I close my eyes as the wind brushes against my skin,
and I wish it were you yet again.

When this wind ceases to blow
is when I will stop dreaming of you so.
This wind it comforts me greatly,
but the thought of you still lingers faintly.

This wind is unpredictable, and at times it is jarring,
and yet it still consoles me when you and I are sparring.
At times this wind is as sweet as your kiss,
and never a day will this wind I not miss.