Windmill

**Rough first draft**

You're too good to me,
and for me,
but sometimes I forget
for awhile.
Then your subtle breeze
turns north, gathers strength
and from the arctic you come.
You blast through
the facade of everyday
I have hastily erected
and I am yet again
blown away
by you.

Tomorrow, I will
lay another stone.

I have learned nothing but this;
it is all there is to know:
this storm will not blow through.