11/29/18
The wind whispers the inviting sounds of sitting down for a spell,
to taste its gift of peace, a voice of secrets so tranquil
The wind it moves the waters down the curves and turns of this old hollow town.
The wind picks up my Thoughts today and carries them very far away.
To those times you sat right here whispering thoughts into its ear.
The wind takes into these hills the music of my beating heart,
Tuned by words of love and loss, the depts of pain you knew.
Missed opportunities this breeze takes to my heart from you.
Like the floating leaves under its sail,
Following the destined track, the hills regale.
Whispers which are destined to be forgot & left alone as leaves begin to rot.
Follow not the walker’s way, the wind knows a direct route.
To all the things that you never said, or decided you’d leave out.
Exactly which corner of this river will house all my dreams today.
If you were here, I bet I know exactly what you’d say.
“Let’s sit here sis. Just for a bit.”
To rest your soul and do nothing more in this quiet spent.
Rest That’d be in the moment, on this riverbank we’d drift.
My heart’s so full of everything you’ve had to release so quick,
I wish I could have known that day, rest could have been a gift.
The wind will take it now, from your weary heart,
The hills decide its path and knows the destined chart.
And you know it, because the sun is the one
Who’d kiss and tell the secrets that the winds begun.
The sun reflects the glistening push, the wind lays on the stream,
Which rolls new scenes back to your eyes & captures sparkling dreams.
thoughts and words of love and loss of missed opportunities
secrets you’ve left behind, that this wind has caught & now past my ears to me.
But where’re you’ve gone I do not know
all the dreams you’ve left, my heart will hold.
Until my mind is full again and I must return to This river bend,
where the wind will Whisper invitingly for me to gently set them free
To fly back into these magnetic hills of home
The place you took each sweet dream to but forgot them since you’ve gone.
(I go to the lake or river a lot and sit there processing all the loss in life, putting it in nice new clothes and categories that hold them safe until I make it back to process it all again. ON this day, a poem showed up and so I just began to write. I didn’t edit much, except separating the lines, so it’s heavy and sad, but I guess it had to go somewhere.)
Adam's Eve 