Thursday, March 18, 2010

Sobs of the wind

Tis strange how the wind

That blows through, the desert

and the seas

Never rests on land

On and on it blows

It can wreck the roofs of the lowly

Keep the kites of the child aloft

Rock the vagabond to sleep

The wind of the tongues swirl

Can pass by empty

And as it passes

To some it is a song

To some a grunt

Often its just a wind.

So hoist your kites

Blow your trumpets

Or just sob in your bed

Posted via email from wordcreates's posterous

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