Where does the weary wind go?
it seeps into the hearts
of the woed….
there it rustles
and stirs
up the tendrils
of hope.
it blinds the eyes
that see no future.
it breathes life
into the lives
that desire
no being.
its fingers trace
upon a teary face
the long forgotten
caresses
of a loved one
lost in waiting.
What would it be like? i ask
and you are bemused.
pity pools in your eyes
escaping before
a knowing smile tugs into a smirk.
how will you ever know?
say your lips
politely pursed shut.
will you ever know?
instinctively your head
shakes no, no.
Startled.
Blanch…tighten…rigid…re-mask.
a hand rubbed face
erases…
an imperceptible nod
encourages instead.
intotheindigo 