Like the wind on my cheek,
Life passes me by,
Unlike my pain,
That wants me to die.
Grey skies turn blue,
The winds pick up,
It's life again,
Waiting to be nuged.
My candle flickers,
In the dark I sit still,
I see the soft light,
On my windowsill.
The morning is near,
There's winds blowing in,
I think I'll let them,
Caress my cheek again.
Copyright © 2026 Vickie Hurtt - Thayer. All Rights Reserved