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I am the sound of soup being stirred
on a cold Winter's day
I am the sound of lemonade being poured
on a hot Summer afternoon
I am the face you make when finally after all your begging
your mother says 'yes'
I am the thanks you give
after your father buys you the one thing you want
But I am also the sound of your least favorite food
sitting cold on your plate
and the grimace at a broken fan
in the peak of summer
Me-the somber angel's kiss
upon your sleeping lips
Me-the wind demon
stealing you away.
Me-the one thing that you can't live without
Me-The one thing you can't stand.