When you wander alone in the woods,
A thorn might prick, a stone you might trip on,
A brute might scream, a whisper might haunt,
I won’t be around to keep a watchful eye,
Your journey is your choice, your destiny your path.
When you sit alone lost in your thoughts,
When you need to lean, when you want to be held,
The hands you hold might be your own,
Eyes that stare back at you, your own,
I remain a silent spectator, an aloof witness.
When you falter, when you scrape your knee,
The hands that pick you up, your own,
The voices cheering for you, in your head
Your pandoras box, right within your reach,
You are your completeness, you your enemy.
You’ll sing in the breezes of spring alone,
You’ll wander the mists of winter, the gusts of summer,
You’re the music of sunrise, the magic of sunset,
As I remain a dreamy surprise, a painful reality,
A whisper you never heard, a prayer unasked.
As your hair turns grey, as your cheeks sag,
As the wheel of life crackles, as you age,
As life turns a reel of memoirs and regrets,
You might see me in flashes of brilliance,
In a blurred memory, as a distant nightmare.
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