I sit on a log, as a child,
watching the clouds drifting by, crying.
In the presence of others yet separated from them,
I am alone and distant.
The hurt fills my insides,
building the guarded wall even higher.
I revisit the log, as a woman,
watching life drifting by, hiding.
Being a dreamer, both then and now,
even when broken dreams bring heartbreak.
In the presence of others yet separated from them,
I am alone and distant.