I’ve seen them turning in your eyes,
swinging softly in the breeze.
A synchronous movement of turning fins – driven by a heart’s desire.
Do they turn for Me?
Do those canvas coverd’ kites hold strong the wind they catch?
Turning strong all day long?
Or are there holes unknown to me, that loose the power there,
Slowly lagging in the gusts that once spun them freely.
I think of them often, for they have turned for others.
I do hope they still turn – only for me.
Those illusive wind-blown mills of your mind.
For whom do mine turn you ask?
Through the day and night, months and years past?
The answer is within you.
You are the wind that fills the windmills of my mind.
Am I still that which I want so to be?
Does that same wind blow through thee?