I suppose
I shall always be—a wanderer
Walking the halls of my own mind
Always unsure, of what I might find.

I am your view from your porch
I am the sand in your toes  
I am the light from your torch
I am the bearer of your woes
I am your mirror on the lake  
I am your connection to the land
I  am the leaf stuck to your rake
I am the hammer in your hand
I am the loneliest, part of you—
Watching—
Waiting—