This snow that i hold in my hand,
melts away like a love in my heart.
This sand that I stand upon now,
Filters away as i'm falling apart.
These visions that I frequently see,
are they an omen for what is to be.
The seeds that i gather and sow,
will the wither and die or just grow.
The sea that tugs at my feet,
leaves me washed up and so incomplete.
This wind that i feel in my hair,
leaves me down and full of despair.
These tears that well up in my eye,
I thought had dried up during my life.
Flow down my face cracked and torn,
cut through like a blade of a knife.
Melting snow, blistering sand, and sea
Filters, tugs and gathers the true me.
though the sun
in which i can't hold
will still be fresh
as i wither and grow old
I've whined and whimpered cause nothing was right.
I'm too old to care and now too old to fight.

i can see now that you had intended something different - i like, i'm sorry i put my two lines in. kim