Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

I'm afraid I talk a lot, too much, perhaps. I should have been a lawyer or a college professor or a windy politician, though I'm glad I am not any of these.

When a child, my dreams rode on your wishes, I was your son, high on your horse, My mind a top whipped by the lashes Of your rhetoric, windy of course.

No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

Breathless we flung us on a windy hill Laughed in the sun and kissed the lovely grass.

I'm afraid I talk a lot too much perhaps. I should have been a lawyer or a college professor or a windy politician though I'm glad I am not any of these.

When a child my dreams rode on your wishes I was your son high on your horse My mind a top whipped by the lashes Of your rhetoric windy of course.