The Whispering Wind
The Whispering WindSoftly it caresses my face and I feel my nostrils flare.
It dries my eyes and tossles that one small piece of hair.
I stand in the twilight, quiet and posed,
the fragrance of the wind in my nose.
It whispers to me, of things I've done.
Of races lost and those I've won.
It fills my head with questions, and doubts.
Have I really lived, or figured it all out.
As it whistles softly by my ear, I wonder can anyone else hear.
My thoughts, my doubts, my hopes and dreams.
Is it a whisper, or a stifled scream.
I look around wondering who else could have heard.
My thoughts, as they raced like a wild buffalo herd.
As quickly as it came and blew across my face,
It leaves and I am again alone in this place.
Linda R Reed
It dries my eyes and tossles that one small piece of hair.
I stand in the twilight, quiet and posed,
the fragrance of the wind in my nose.
It whispers to me, of things I've done.
Of races lost and those I've won.
It fills my head with questions, and doubts.
Have I really lived, or figured it all out.
As it whistles softly by my ear, I wonder can anyone else hear.
My thoughts, my doubts, my hopes and dreams.
Is it a whisper, or a stifled scream.
I look around wondering who else could have heard.
My thoughts, as they raced like a wild buffalo herd.
As quickly as it came and blew across my face,
It leaves and I am again alone in this place.
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