Cling to me,
my love,
the way a wet leaf
paints itself to a window
after a heavy rainfall.

The kind that's been in hiding
because you've yet to find
a soul strong enough to stand
in the middle of your storm.

Cling to me,
my love,
for I will be the thunder
to your lightening.
And together,
we will paint
many windows
with fallen leaves.

We will be a force not to be reckoned with. 

I will be the eye of your storm.

©Émilia Rennart