The winds blowing through my hair the wrong way

Making the rough ends beat against my face

The world wraps around me looking so dull and gray

Dresses in white, lovely stitched lace

It feels incomplete it feels so undone

Like when a the pot is only clay

Or when a song isn't sung

Today April turns to May

But where is the beginning and where is the end?

When does life meet death, and does death ever really becomes what it was meant to be?

Can these wounds we wish to heal ever really mend?

Do the blind truly ever see?

Tonight I can feel a shadow being cast about myself

With deep deeds and thoughts I never wished to show

Things I thought were in the closet are now on the shelf

No one ever really knew I could steep so low

Tomorrow morning these things are gone

They have disappeared without a trace

The morning dew twinkles as the sun says dawn

And once again I am able to look into your face