I was only what you made of me,
a winter's kiss and a summer's breeze.
Glass spun in flimsy spring gold,
fragile as autumn's last tale told.
But I am sharp as electric wire
flashing bright as violet fire,
soft as air 'till it met wind,
water caught reflecting a silver fin.
Solid, rooting, green and brown,
deep as the earth and thin as the ground.
I am waves cutting across the sea,
I never was what you made of me.
