I Can Hear the Wind
I can hear the wind whistling in the trees,
blowing loose strands of hair into my face;
playful-like, not quite enough to displease.
As a stillness morphs into a cool breeze
and Sol weaves colored clouds into pink lace:
I can hear the wind whistling in the trees.
As if by magic, crystal raindrops freeze,
and the snowflakes fall at a gentle pace;
playful-like, not quite enough to displease.
The sky exhales in whispered harmonies
as a scarlet sun sinks without a trace:
I can hear the wind, whistling in the trees.
Combining alternate realities,
Autumn and Winter start to interface:
playful-like, not quite enough to displease.
When temperatures dip a few degrees
and leaves get scattered all over the place:
I can hear the wind whistling in the trees,
playful-like, not quite enough to displease.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
