Monday, November 2, 2015

Wind

There comes the wind

Like a rider from the west

A screen of dust and sand

A silhouette and sunset.


There comes the wind,

Bringing many stories

Of travellers and caravans

Of borders and fences.


There comes the wind

With a rustle of leaves

Dried and wasted

Like putrid memories.


There comes the wind

With few scraps of paper

Words of love and longing

And passions forbidden.


There comes the wind

Carrying expectations

Of clouds and rain

A farmer's tales.


There comes the wind

With many dreams

Of heroes and saviours,

Of disappointing realities.





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