Autumn Wind

A perpetual wanderer,
through time,
through space,
genres.
A searcher, turning over ideas, juggling with possibilities. 

The things that touched you on your way,
a place to where you will never return,
a face you will never see again,
a song to purge the soul,
set free to fly like a child's balloon.

Turn your soul over in your hand, like a gambler's coin.
Flick it into the clouds to twist and flash across the sky.
Catch it gently and peer deep into its well.
Heads or tails, yes or no.
Only time will tell.