It is (A poem written for someone)

It is

By: Alvin

It is the wind which brought us here.

It is cold, dim and wrecking.

It is not the usual for living.

But you made me feel not just a mere.

It is the land which urge me walk.

It is desert'd, crack'd and crook'd.
Not my feet carried me away.

T'was your smile and made me say.

It is not me who is me.

It is weak and not full of glee.

But when you came it made me feel.

That tomorrow is more,

than what it is.

- End