the first breeze that blew across the bay..
warm fresh and chirpy, it knew not what love was
the breeze caressed the waves and the bay knew not what to say
mild breeze and the soft waves
the breeze thought it was love and so did the bay
blinded and smitten in the interlude of passion,
little did they realize what life held in its way
the storm crashed, the breeze was to be gail
and violent waves rose in anger from the bay
what held them together was not love
but a timely season of spring on its way
they parted for it was rains again
the breeze cried and the bay knew not what to say…..