The Passerby
The wind carries you to me,
not when I want you,
but when I need you
to come and whisk the doubts away.
You come like a blur
and your face is so distant,
it's so clear,
because I hold your picture in my heart.
There's a cobweb in the corner,
a sheet of fog above the dew,
and yet you still manage to break the ice
and make my soul renewed.
There's just something about you,
to which I am irresistibly drawn,
as the current knows which way to flow,
so I find my way to you.
Like an old Irish tune,
you are something magical,
uplifting and incredible.
So delicately put together
that all the cloud atop the grass lifts you up
to fade away back into the morning light
in which I wake...
Copyright © 2013 Sarah Hamlin