The gentle whistling
wind embracing
me in its arms;
shielding me from harm.
Its gentle breeze refreshing
my fragile heart; dissolving
all my bleeding anxiety
and all past once faulty.
The whooshing arms wave
off the grains of sand that chafe
my skin and my
eyes, scrubbing them dry.
The winds around me carrying
the source of my life; humming
the melody of my heart and mind;
opening my eyes, only to whoosh them blind...
Comments
theharper | October 19, 2008 - 21:09
I always like it when the speaker is fully connected with nature. This is lovely.
Nathan Bednarek | October 22, 2008 - 09:37
Thanks! I love to use nature in my poetry, but sometimes it's just hard to make it original.
Thanks again.
Nathan ;-)