My Castaway

Whither will this slide all end?

whence will weatherstorms arise

whereupon my spirit flies

with my I — my I — my Castaway?

Why  is time always sifting

with sorrows marching, misting

wishing for the fargone force

of my I — my I — my Castaway?

Washed in waves of winter tides

weaving water-webs on eyes

watching visions vaporize

of my I — my I — my Castaway

Wistful sighs want far-aways

woeful whys enwrap my days

wheatchaff-wound in stifled cries

for my I — my I — my Castaway

Wand'ring through each waning day

whisp'ring now to shadows all

waiting for the echoing call

of my I — my I — my Castaway

Winding past familiar mess

windsong's chill and damp caress

whipping leaves that dance the cry

of my I — my I — my Castaway

Weighed by wilted memories

wading on through waist-high weeds

waif in search in planting-seeds

for my  I — my I — my Castaway