Cymbal

Is there a time
When the wind will return?
No longer welcome here
It pulls at my hands
But I am already away
I am further than I have been near
The brightened eyes
Slowly fade to grey

But deep inside
This shallowness I do confide
Within, is that there is still
A spark
Though caught by many
And then released on its way
It means not that any
One can feel

The joy in which
I imbued my life
Now trapped in freedom
To discover and find

I cannot read your mind
But I hope that one day soon
You can read between my lines
And there I will loom
Inside the fires
Of love, and groom.