She’s like the wave that washes my skin.
Come over the tide, over again.
And like the wind that blows and has always been,
Forever in motion-
Always will win.
Win she may, but let me explain,
She rides like the river, begging for rain.
Little she knows I never feel pain,
A horse and a saddle, I’m taking the rein,
Just to be closer-
And in the winter, folks store their grain,
With no sane man ever looking for rain.
But, in closed crystal droplets I see nothing vain,
I welcome her always-
I may be insane.