Wind blown and flown,
I dance on my own.
I dance with the wind in the end,
Then dance again.
I’m a lifeless leaf, an abandoned sheaf,
Experiencing life to be brief.
There’s no other flower this entire hour
That can resist the need to cower.
These may be words you’ve sometimes heard
Before scrambled with the sword.
But they cut all the same, taking no names,
And never leaving anyone to blame.
So just for awhile I manage to smile,
And pray there is no guile.
Persuaded you’re gentle, I become mental,
And completely incidental.
Written by Gail Brookshire