She comes with the wind,
And goes with it as well.
It sings the notes of a vagabonds tune
She answers with her own notes that say she will be there soon.
She rides on the wind,
a force of nature she is.
She is fluid and wispy,
never staying in one place,
never belonging.
The wind has no home, no resting place,
The wind has no bed, no hands, no face,
to call it's own.
Perhaps that is why she travels with it.
She see that the wind is lonely.
A whistling, wandering, pilgrim,
shouting of what is to come,
of what it is bringing with it.
Many travel with the wind,
but none stay but she.
She never leaves,
friends never leave friends.
And so she comes with the wind,
And goes with it as well.
SK
