On a cool summer night.
She was wind in the needles
Of the high mountain pines.
She was snow in December,
Freshly fallen and white.
She was fog on the highway
Obscuring the lines.
She was one of the waves,
Crashing against the shore.
She was frost on the windows
Of every warm home.
She was the surging current,
Across the ocean floor.
She was the gathering clouds,
So high and so alone.
She was the lightning,
A flash, and then again.
She was the thunder,
Rumbling overhead.
She?
She was the storm,
Raging, stirring, hurting as she cried.
And I?
I was the sky,
Who held her until the pain died.
She is a force of nature,
My beginning and my end.
She is a hurricane,
And I'll love her 'til I'm dead.
