I am as strange as the rain in summer
I am the bellow of the wind at night
I am the plough and I am the farmer
I am the dreams that died in flight.
I am nothing of matter or substance
I am a wisp of a thought you once had
I am a labourer amongst the peasants
I’m all that’s good and I’m all that’s bad.
I am the belief some hold so dearly
I am not a person to whom you can plead
I am believing in what I see clearly
I am watching as you bleed.
I am hearing your voice as it echoes
I am the one that hears your tone
I am listening to the poetry in your prose
I am holding the door open to your home.
I am the light you see from your window
I am what you see in what’s to come
I am searching for what only you know
I was your answer, I was never your problem.
© 2022, Daniel Kemp All rights reserved.