I call out into the night air.
The humid summer breeze greets me
And it responds by kissing my lips;
I smell rain, the gale says. I smell a storm.

I look to the clear sky.

You lie, I respond. You lie to me.

Oh, how naive, so the breeze tells. 
Oh, how naive.

And it leaves me
With just a caress to my face
And more questions than answers.