When rubbish flowers in a cemetery

March 9, 2011

The wind and my beloved

The wind and my beloved, both come and go
Hard to hold down, hard to let go.
Always moving me, both make me wait;
Another night, my dear, they seem to state.
Their touch on my moist lips and through my hair;
I close my eyes and feel them everywhere.
Bringing sounds, smells and stories of a different world
Both can be timid and both can be bold.
They stay for a season, and leave for a reason.
The wind and my beloved, both come and go
forever present, they freely flow.
-NM

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