Passing

The wind, it wanders; wayward, wanting; winter's wane it's waiting for -
You'll sleep inside the soil til the seasons show their skin once more.
The tongues, they trip all tricky-like, stating time will take the tears
And eagles each so erring preach to mirror steam and needy ears.

But laying in the lacrimal land are liars lingering for the light
Humming hollow hymns to each himself so happiness says hi
You know I'd never leave you nebulous, neither nothing or no one
I'll sew a home for your soul in a cloche and my clothes until I go for sowing.