Me Perhaps

Maybe the gentle breeze, a zephyr, carrying the smell of wood smoke
On a winter'��s morn. The whisper of tyres on a distant road.

Could I be the blush of dawn bringing the light, the rush of melt water
Tumbling down a mountain stream.

The great blue sky echoing with the greeting cries of aerial hunters;
Gladdening your ears, smiling your lips, lighting your eyes.

Perhaps that distant, indistinct figure who raises a friendly hand as we,
Ploughing our lonely furrow, pass like ships at sea.

A taste of red, enjoyed while being fascinated by mesmeric dancing
Flames of a log fire, in a Grande Maison. Ah, "��La belle..."��

I may not be any of these things, but joining you in a conspiratorial
Feeling of oneness, "��This is who I would be."��