Tuesday, March 08, 2016

the wind ...

the wind ...

the wind begins
somewhere west of west
breath of life
blow of death
swirling in wide circles
and twisting up the alleyways
where ancient ragmen sleep
then speeding through the city
through the soot and the debris
out past the night traffic
undeterred by the stretched blur
of the streetlights
until once over the bridge
and round about a daunting steeple
the fury subsides into
tiny puffs of sound
rippling over your lips
soft whispers
coaxing me to stay
and skip over
the tumble down of forever
but the wind returns
stirs vague currents of air
that lift me up and out
into the darkest of clouds
and all i can offer
is a fleeting sigh
nothing more
but nothing less
than a loving



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