Windfall

The phantom of the wind
shaping, turning, breathing
the heartbeat of the heavens
brushing past my face.

The leaves rustle, sighing,
they are longing for the spring.
Gently falling friends
silent, drift below

It lifts the air around me
be it breeze
or howling storm
drifting, rippling through
the twilight,
whispered words
lost and torn





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback