journal · poetry

Wind

I’ll come and I’ll go
like the wind through the leaves
the birds and the bees
in their trees
do they feel me?
Miles apart from a heart
no light in this dark
no flame to light the spark…
it was the other way around.
There is a candle in my soul
that keeps on glowing
even when I’m blowing away
through the long harsh
night into the day
or day into the night?
Couldn’t decide which I like better
but the wind doesn’t know
it just goes and throws things behind it
leaving you sore
until the next time
when it touches you once more
with it’s breath,
it’s life
it’s quiet violence.
Only it’s passing is disrupting the silence.
Can you feel it?
It’s not the most important of things
but it can leave an impression…
I think.
Hopefully.
Don’t forget me…

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