I hear the howl, Amidst the cries of the leaves As they tremble And beat against each other- The game of survival going strong as ever And the weaker ones try to cling To the branches
But the weaker ones, Oh the weaker ones! Become the part of the tempest That is yet to come
I hear the wailing As the squall thrashes against my face The weaker blades swirl around me As if summoned by a sorcerer; To engulf me in their fallen grace, My feeble self-
I find myself captured In the eye of the tornado Ready to be devoured by the gale; But I come alive As your scent fills my existence While I gasp with delight For the wind has brought your news to me.