Lion

Winter's come, you say you're leaving
It does not make much
Sense now that you're gone
But I could risk a sorry
As a fool would not be so hearty

And maybe I could be your lion
One who forsees you walking out

Spring had come, you say you owe me
It does not make much
Sense to act full grown
And clouds became but parted
A return to where things started

As maybe I could be your lion
One who retreats when called upon again