I am that gale surging through your window
chill and cold, but welcoming.
I am the quenching rays stirring you out of bed
abrupt and curt, but warm.
I am all the meals that taste divine
surly and sweet, but fleeting.
I am a tingle on your spine when you are alone
teary and dear, but guards against fears.
I crawl at your feet with grace
wanting and needing, but with care.
I escape from your violin as you play
sharp and surreal, but calming.
I reflect in all the faces you pass
brittle and reluctant, but friendly.
I rest on those empty calendar days
urging and swooning, but ethereal.
I exist only in your mind
laughing and smiling,
kissing and loving,
but never there
when you
need me
most.
