When the West Wind Blew

I was worn and weary

when the west wind blew.

I was feeling fretful;

wasn’t over you!

God was in his heaven

with his son, who'd bled.

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Last words you said.

I was reading Nietzsche

and was bleeding verse;

Philosophy, with poetry,

made me feel worse!

God was in his heaven,

(not in Nietzsche’s head!)

He was like our romance:

decomposed and dead!

I was worn and weary

when the west wind blew.

Told me that you loved me

and then vowed, “It’s true!”

God was in his heaven

while my heart, it bled.

“Don’t do this, it’s killing me”

Last words I said.

I was pumping iron,

turned myself to steel.

Sculptured like a statue,

so I could not feel.

God looked down from heaven,

breathed a cynic’s sigh

“Muscle makes the man, “he said’s

“a lovesick lie!”

I was worn and weary

when the west wind blew.

Thought about you aging,

as my grey hairs grew.

God sat safe in heaven;

he could take his time.

He weren’t penning poems,

running out of rhyme!

I was growing older;

with my grief, I grew.

Told no one about us,

so nobody knew.

God was in his heaven

and he saw me weep.

Said he’d not forsake me,

and his talk's not cheap!

I was worn and weary

when the west wind blew.

Prayed, “I’m broken-hearted!”

God said, “Join the queue!

heartbreak is a lesson,”

Lord above did add,

“One day, all this heartache

it won’t seem so bad.”

I’d been tried and tested

when you got in touch.

Thirty years of sorrow

must amount to much.

God came down from heaven;

with  his magic art,

glued us back together,

so we’d never part

I was worn and weary

When the west wind blew.

all my tears had dried up,

like the morning dew.

God was back in heaven

and the world seemed right;

miracles can happen,

but not over night!