If I wrote your name with water,
and the sun snuck out to steal it.
Will I see you in the rumbling storm,
or a silver maned tumbling stream?
If I whispered your name to the wind,
and the seasons came to borrow it.
Will I hear it in gentle whispering leaves,
or a cool and wanting autumn breeze?
If I drew your name in bright pictures,
and the long steady hand of time fade it.
Will I see you in a vivid coloured sunset,
or adorning the wings of a butterfly?