STORM
The wind is blowing through my hair
While I sit, wait, watch and stare
At nothing but something that is everywhere
And wonder if I should even dare
Do what I wish, I want, I think.
Or will my heart and others sink
If from your cup I take a drink?
Will it bring me to the brink?
And where from there would we then go?
I see the clouds; I can't think; I don't know.
If for you I let myself go,
Will we then reap what we did sow?
The storm is brewing; it's rolling in.
I know not why I invite this sin.
I try to escape it time and again,
The lightening, the thunder, the rain begin.
Copyright © 1998 Faith