And the Wind Chimes
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I've somehow pondered about the rush of air;
of how I could be lulled in billows, and yet,
its stroke upon my flesh always eludes me...
as if in midnight trailing, weeping in refrains,
this cadence glides beyond streetlamps
to my litanies, my expectations, to tears
until I am drenched by its grayish mist.
Like one rain-child, born with August
in my veins, I become a listener of winds
huffing on trees, the whistle swirls up down
to the ground chasing the anguish
that escapes my mouth: then to know
my heart’s kept secret is cuddled
deeply through the quiet hiss of darkness.
Now I trace the reel of fleeting memory
and sigh... lost in distant zones as wind chimes
echo no more in spaces where I loved
and still, live to love back--- with my hope
rising into the vapor of refreshed morns.
Originally Written 5/21/2019
Contest of Julia Ward: Favourite Poem from May, 2019
~ Inspiration from The Wind Cries Mary - Jimi Hendrix
Submitted 6/28/2019
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
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