The Winds whispered
Secrets to me,
One early morning.
They complained the gentle rains
Stole their ancient glory.
I asked what I could do,
But received no reply.
Anyway, how could I chance
To help the mighty winds,
Whose strong hands have held
The wisest of warriors,
Like Hercules and Theseus.
I am only a lost soul
Who envies the wind and
Curses the rain.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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