Wicked Witch of the East
Am I but a gust of wind,
...felt but soon forgotten?
Or might I be a cooling breeze,
...small pleasure to be gotten?
Perhaps chinook, from out the west,
...that melts the winter's snow?
I know at times a cyclone be,
...a pain to those I know.
Maybe thrust of norther's gale,
...biting winds tempetuous?
Unforseen, harsh mocking squall,
...at once becoming blusterous,
Sorocco carries desert's heat,
Trade winds fill the schooner's sails,
Perhaps I am just bag of air,
...hot vapors never caught,
The one fact true, that when I'm gone,
...as winds will be forgot.
[This message has been edited by Wicked Witch of the East (edited 04-07-2000).]