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It Used to Be
March 15, 2013
Wind once had a way of entering every part of me,
Wrapping each limb in his blanket of gust,
Caressing my cheek and nipping at the tip of my nose—
It is now, after the parts of me that once mattered have long dwindled,
That Wind whistles through my hollow bones,
Courses his way around the insides of my limp, aching body,
As I lie and beg him to cradle my shaking figure,
While he continues to chill the ends of my spine.
© Molly L., Bethesda, MD
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