My Sweetnest

I am not a river to flow
and shape the land
with gentle stream,
nor am I wind to blow
away the dream.

Can’t even manage to move
the clouds around across the sky,
or turn their white to blue,
and I have tried.
(such a fool am I)

I am earth, I am clay,
I take your sweat,
I take your sin,
and when you go away
I soak it all in.

Like a wandering rain
that tries in vain to find some rest,
I wish I could call you again
my Sweetnest.